


monomyth

by sylph_feather



Series: Phanniemay 19 [28]
Category: Danny Phantom
Genre: Adventure, Alternate Universe - Dragons, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Gen, Magic, Minor Violence, Phanniemay, Phanniemay 2016, favorite prompt - dragons, just fight scenes?, phanniemay 19, pm 16, pm 19
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-05
Updated: 2019-11-06
Packaged: 2020-04-08 03:51:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 31,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19099198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sylph_feather/pseuds/sylph_feather
Summary: Danny has a mark, wings, stretched across his back. His parents think it is the sign of more dragons to hunt, despite the Fentons having driven them to extinction; Danny jokes that it's a curse because of their enthusiasm— and well, he's not wrong about the curse part.





	1. ordinary world

_They're out there,_ his parents say— of course, in reference to _dragons._

Jazz rolls her eyes every time they mention it, returning to studying.

They then always turn to Danny— "you would know," they say, pointing to the birthmark stretched across his back, two small, leathery wings and freckles like scales. "You are _marked_ to be a hunter; with those, it's practically your destiny!"

Danny of course is always snarky to that— "I thought you said the Fenton line hunted them to extinction," he sometimes responds. He also sometimes says that "dragons would be well-known by now, considering they aren't subtle." It didn't matter— it always lead to the same long 'explanations' of how the "wily bastards" (his father's words) hid themselves "out of fear of the great Fentons." (Also his father's words). Other times, he chooses a different path— "marks can't decide that," he says (then immediately feels like his sister who attempts to rationalize magic). This of course leads to another explanation of how blessing marks.

Danny decides they're wrong— and really, they are, just about what the mark shows.

It's no blessing.

xXx

Really, Danny just feels bad that his ancestors did what they did; the Fentons were indeed a line of famed dragon hunters, slaughtering the beasts in all methods of brutality. Danny is no expert on magical creatures, but from what he read… well, dragons seemed relatively innocent. There were varying reports of their intelligence— human? Animal?— and destructive ability and actions… but damning a whole variety of creatures based on the actions of a destructive, violent few seems… _wrong._

It doesn't cling to him, though. He simply feels that pang of sadness at the loss of them during his parents rants— then he ignores it, of course.

Instead of becoming some dragon hunter, he hones his magic. Jazz is disappointed to see him pursue it; the Fenton line was magic-prone, after all, with Jazz herself possessing more fire-based magic (like her mother) that she didn't hone in favor of studying... psych, of all things. 

But Danny knows that it's one of the few things he's exceptional at. On top of that… it just _calls_ to him. His own magic is not as easily categorized as Jazz's, confusing everyone who sees it, and it _aches_ to be released.

So he sits beneath the stars, where he feels most powerful, and his magic sparkles around him, electric green swirled with shadowy black— it looks like a crackling night sky of its own.

His shoulders tingle.

xXx

 _Cursed! The Fentons are cursed,_ a roar echoes. Hot breath— shades of green swirling together— shoots into the sky. _Your bloodline will become what you hate._

Danny wakes up, back aching.

_Same dream again._


	2. an ordinary day

“What do you think about dragons, Tuck?” Danny asks after school, bouncing his glimmering magic between his hands and staring down at a half-written paper. 

“Eh,” Tucker grunts. “You know I don’t know much about animals. Or magic, ‘sides from when it crosses with tech.” For emphasis, he taps a few buttons on the talisman-powered device, electricity harnessed with symbols and stones. After the pause, Tucker questions, “parents being crazy again?” 

Danny laughs. “It  _ is  _ related to my paper,” he hums, tapping the research sheet on extinction and overhunting. “Tangentially.” 

“Big word,” Tucker hums with a chuckle. 

“Word of the day in English,” Danny chuckles back. 

Tucker straightens up, gets a little more serious as he puts the device down. “But dude, we both know why you chose  _ that  _ topic.” He laughs, loosening again. “Don’t let your parents get to you, man. There’s been no dragons since the dark ages.”

Danny huffs. “I know. It’s not about that.” Tucker tips his head in a silent question of  _ then what?  _ and Danny elaborates— “I just, I don’t know, I just think… maybe people have a bad impression of them.” He goes off into mumbling, info absorbed from his parents spilling out: “I mean, in Asian cultures they were said helpful, and not even all dragons were supposed to be evil…” he trails off, then in a louder, less mumbly tone, finishes, “but of course my parents think those are fake; tricks or hoaxes, or whatever.” 

Tucker pauses, processing. “So you just are curious as to like, a general opinion on their like, uh— morality?” 

“Also a fancy word,” Danny chuckles— then shrugs. “I guess. Maybe even more…” he flaps a hand around— “general than that?”

“I guess…” Tucker begins slowly, “it’s kinda too bad that they’re gone, if what you said is right and like, popular opinion on them is wrong.” He squints. “Though they did seem awfully, uh,  _ destructive.”  _

For some reason, Danny feels defensive; something in his back wants to flare open, he wants to bite out, “ _ aren’t humans, too?”  _

The urge is gone as quickly as it came, though. Danny stumbles on his answer because of it, only manages a vague and neutral sounding, “yeah.” 

Tucker continues, oblivious of the trip up in his thoughtfulness, “but I guess they’re kinda like… bears, or something, you know?” Danny shakes his head, looks at Tucker questioningly. “Like, even if I had magic or a good weapon or something, I wouldn’t wanna go near a bear.” He pauses, adds, “and I don’t think that’s just me being a tech-addict who never leaves the house. I think that’s a pretty fair and normal feeling.” Danny chuckles, bobs his head in agreement, and Tucker continues, “but I think if all bears were to be hunted like that, and killed, I think I’d be… sad, I guess?” He pauses. “I’m not a huge animal rights activist or whatever, but like, I don’t know— it seems… sad.” 

“Yeah,” Danny hums softly, staring at the ground consideringly. Neither is unable to come up with a better word than  _ sad,  _ despite them both grasping for it because something _ deeper  _ is needed to describe the hole of something small and unimpactful on the daily, yet something one wouldn’t want gone.  _ Bears  _ (or any numerous other considered species) may not have affected either of their lives, and yet a world without them seemed a strange thing to consider. A loss of something far away, and something  _ important.  _

Danny wonders if it’s just that reason he feels a strange  _ longing  _ for the dragons, despite them disappearing generations ago. A sadness over that level of loss, wrought by— he cuts himself off of the thought tinged with bitterness of  _ humans,  _ and focusses once more on his literature assignment. 

 

xXx

 

The vague  _ emptiness  _ is one that bugs Danny, occasionally; mostly, it coincided with his numerous  _ dreams.  _

The green dragon roaring  _ cursed bloodline  _ is the most common, but Danny has other dreams that are at least moderately related to dragons— dreams of cool night air on wings that make his back feel light and airy, dreams of gem eyes with equally shiny scales fluttering around him, dreams of flames and cries for  _ help, help,  _ and  _ flee _ .  _ These  _ are the dreams that bring that sense of  _ longing,  _ the ones that have (since the beginning) made Danny reflect a little on the extinction of dragons. 

Danny blames his parents for the dreams, really; all their insistence on talking about dragons  _ all the time _ and obsession with locating them probably implanted such thoughts in his head. Surely, the whole  _ destined dragon slayer  _ ‘duty’ (could it even be called that, with no dragons?) his parents constantly talked to him about didn’t help either. Granted, Danny didn’t know much about psych— that was a bit more Jazz’s wheelhouse. 

Which really showed in the way he dealt with it: by shoving it all away, denying it, and moving on. 

 

xXx

 

The teacher eyes the paper. “You did it on dragons,” he drawls sarcastically, looking the sheet over. 

Danny can almost hear the implied  _ how typical.  _ He shrugs. “They  _ are  _ the poster for extinct species.” With that, he returns to his seat. 

“Least you didn’t do it on how they  _ weren’t  _ extinct,” Tucker offers, shrugging and laughing a bit. 

Danny just shrugs and laughs as well. He  _ knows  _ the…  _ reputation  _ his parents have as nutters trying to hunt a long-dead species. Alas, it carries over to his school— no, to  _ everything,  _ since they are so  _ verbal  _ about it. 

He slumps against the seat. “What I wouldn’t give to just be normal,” he hisses under his breath. 

Tucker looks over sympathetically, patting an arm as more people go up to turn their papers in. 

Danny continues, bitterness welling up (as it so often does for him relating to  _ this _ ). “Like, they couldn’t just make it, I don’t know,  _ quiet?  _ Do they  _ have  _ to ask everyone about dragon sightings, then get into arguments?” he asks rhetorically. Tucker chuckles at the picture of the Fenton parents’ absurdity while Danny’s face twists into a frown. “And that’s not even  _ talking _ about the whole  _ destined hunter  _ mark thing,” he drawls, getting our school supplies while mimicking his parents’ overjoyed voices at his supposed destiny. 

Tucker squints. “You ever get that, you know, checked?” He pauses at Danny’s confusion. “I may not know a lot about magic, but it seems like something like that could be a curse, or bad, or… something,” he finishes weakly. 

“It certainly is a curse,” Danny says solemnly. Tucker’s face goes slack— then Danny laughs and continues, “a curse that makes my parents think I’ll be some stupid hunter of things that don’t even  _ exist.”  _

Tucker laughs too, putting his hands up in a  _ you got me  _ motion. 

“But really,” Danny hums, “it’s just a birthmark.” 

 

(They’re both right). 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Changed some very small bits of last chap since I originally didn’t write this with a full series in mind— but you don’t need to go back and read it, they were just small details that don’t matter much anyways.   
> I bounced around a lot but settled on making this kinda urban fantasy-y because I didn’t really feel like dealing with a ton of worldbuilding/explanation necessary for a typical high fantasy setting. I hope this is alright? Either way tho the setting doesn’t… particularly matter, tbh
> 
> Anyways. I’m glad so many of you are so interested in this! This is my fastest growing fic— almost contesting in hits this month with my 75 chapter one that’s been my most popular! Dang!! (Don’t worry, this one won’t be as long— I thiiiiiink from my plans it looks to be somewhere between 15 and 30 chapters).


	3. normality takes its leave

Tucker’s talk about the mark… it clung to Danny. 

He’d never really given the etched pair of wings on his back much thought. As a young child he didn’t understand it as anything other than just a he was born with; birthmarks served to explain it well enough to his young self, and he didn’t much care about his parents’ ramblings. Eventually when Danny became older and more aware of the nutcase status of his parents… well, he had just accepted the  _ birthmark  _ thing as fact without further thought, and never challenged it. 

_ But what if it’s not?  _ That was the question. Danny was not ready to at all believe the thing was some divine blessing marking him a dragonhunter considering the obvious lack of targets…  _ but  _ he had never questioned the possibility of other sorts of magic; of curses, hexes, talismans. Why would it have? He merely accepted the first explanation he came up with. 

But now, now that Danny was (somewhat) more mature, more knowledgeable, he found Tucker’s questioning of his mark maybe a little less easily dismissable than he believed. 

The dream-screeches of  _ cursed bloodline  _ that follow him into waking certainly don’t help that nagging feeling, either. 

 

xXx

 

Later that week, Danny decided the best way to get over the nagging was to settle the matter; determine what the mark is. 

He starts with his parents, unwise as it is. But it’s not  _ completely  _ stupid— despite beinh the one suggesting it, Tucker knew little, and his sister was more into broader rationalization than very specific details that would be necessary in categorizing such a strange thing. 

_ Still.  _ It’s pretty dumb, considering both his parents are convinced the mark is one of destiny and nothing else, and tell him so when he asks if they’re  _ sure.  _

Or well, his father ammended “ _ mostly  _ sure,” when pressed. Danny’s mother gave him an elbow and a little glare for that, blue flame retardant jumpsuit brushing against his orange.

“Why do you ask?” she prodded back gently, looking concerned behind the red welding goggles (also for fire protection— of course). 

“Just,” he began, then stopped, unsure of how to proceed without bringing the infamous existence argument into it. “What if it’s something else?” Danny finished meekly. “I mean, hypothetically,” he tacked on, praying to avoid the jumping in point of  _ of course you’re a dragon hunter, there’s still beasts to hunt,  _ that would once again launch the tiresome drag of debating the continued existence of the creatures. 

Jack looked ready to assure Danny of that fact if his drawn breath was anything to go by— but Maddie quickly took over first, more sensitive. “What else  _ could  _ it be?” 

Danny shuffled his feet, feeling ridiculous. “I dunno, a curse, or something,” he said lamely. 

“There’s no curses that look like dragon wings!” Jack barked, as though the matter was obscene. 

Maddie patted his arm, nodding in agreement. “Curse marks are always small, recognizable. To get a mark that big is  _ very  _ powerful magic, and we’d know if someone cast it because all the instruments in the house.” She tipped her head at Danny’s continued shuffling and worried look— “we can look in the curse registry if you want, anyways?” 

“I’ll do it myself,” Danny scoffed, ever the teenager. His mom returned a grin, pleased at the worry draining from her son’s face. 

 

xXx

 

Indeed, there was nothing on marks like his own in going to the library— the library that Danny had to guilt Tuck into. Danny wasn’t the  _ hugest  _ fan of reading, but still went for research or science (particularly space) based reading— but Tucker… Tucker loathed the place. Quiet, organized, abundance of old people, few electronics… it was the bane of his existence (well, below hospitals, of course). Still— he was willing to make that  _ sacrifice,  _ since Tucker genuinely was worried about the whole curse thing (having brought it up in the first place). 

_ But—  _

“Seems my parents were right,” Danny sighed softly, snapping the third, heftiest book shut—  _ Glossary of Curse Marks.  _ “Nothing that big or looking like that on the back,” Danny whuffed, tapping the indicator for the section  _ marks located on the back  _ at the corner of the page.

“No luck here, either,” Tucker hummed, waving  _ Common Curses,  _ having already put aside the  _ Uncommon  _ version. “Or…” he trailed, “is that luck that it’s  _ not  _ there, since it  _ would  _ be a curse?” 

“I guess?” Danny shrugged, amused, flipping absently through a few pages to check if anything was missing. His bemused grin tilted into a small frown, murmuring “but if it’s not a curse…”

Tucker completed his thought: “what  _ is  _ it?” 

“Yeah. It’s definitely not a dragon blessing or whatever,” Danny chuckled. 

“We’re using the internet for this search, though,” Tucker groused, tossing the booklet down carelessly. 

“Yeah,” Danny laughed, considering the sheer specificness of the search and vagueness of the parameters—  _ curse? Blessing? Just a birthmark?—  _ that would  _ definitely  _ not be able to be conquered in a library. 

He easily shelved the books as Tucker moaned about the sorting system of the library, and despite the fact that he was so focused on it, the combination of dread and curiosity surrounding  _ the mark  _ faded in the face of natural banter.  

 

xXx

 

“Ugh,” Tucker groaned. “No, I  _ don’t  _ want sparkly magical OCs, or tattoos,” he hissed to the computer’s results. Such results were common when searching for “ _ marks”  _ and “ _ dragon wings on person.”  _

“Maybe go to some forum or something for magic use and study…?” Danny hummed, fiddling with the notepad he grabbed to record any decent theories (none of which had appeared yet— just his luck). 

Tucker gave a snap. “Narrow it down, smart,” he hummed, ticking away some more at the sleek laptop, keys tapping a little tune. 

Danny hummed for a vague  _ thanks,  _ leaning back against Tucker’s bean bag seat, relaxing as it gave in. He stared at the notebook again— the yellow page seemed to mock him with its blankness, so Danny set about doodling on its face. 

Slow quiet, comfortable. Sounds of tick-tacking, of shifting bean bag stuffing, of pencil on paper. Each sound fluttered in the air almost lazy and tired itself, circling half-heartedly and dizzily thumping into the walls, a heat-dazed bumblebee. 

“Whatcha drawing?” Tucker paused, bee-buzz of the scratching pencil brushing past his ear in its lazy flight after several minutes, distracting him from his typing and drawing notice to Danny’s laid back sketching. 

Danny shrugged noncommittally. “Just doodling,” he hummed. “Gonna take notes and stuff on anything we find,” he continued— then tacked on, “but we gotta find it first.” 

“ _ I  _ gotta find it,” Tuck corrected, mock-haughty. Danny opened his mouth, looking apologetic, but Tucker cut him off— “dude, it’s fine. You look tired, just chill— did you not sleep well?” 

Worry leaked into the calm atmosphere, and Danny sat up with a dismissive shrug. “Slept, just dreamt weird dreams.” 

“I hate when that happens,” Tucker laughed. “What was the dream about?” he asked, conversational as he began scrolling through results, opening promising looking ones up in new tabs. 

Snatches of watery memory, not enough to make a coherent stream, emerged to Danny. The only consistent thing was the vague memory of a great green beast and (in sharp clarity) screams of curses; everything else was just glints of comets in the night sky before burning away. Feelings of something like flight, of vague scenery, of the night, of  _ silence-yet-loudness.  _

“Can’t remember,” Danny settled on, unable to put the feelings into (human) expression, unable to string together a coherent picture of  _ about.  _

“Hate when that happens too,” Tuck echoed his earlier statement. Silence lulled for a beat, soft, lounging between friends. “You never answered what you were drawing.” 

“Mm,” Danny said, looking down in earnest where he’d scratched away half-dazed. He blinked, overwhelmed at some sense of  _ familiarity  _ in the dragon he’d drawn without paying attention. He squinted at it, squinted past the weird feeling the drawing was some kind of  _ mirror.  _ “Something from my dream?” he guessed at unsurely, tapping his pencil against the thing’s large ear before turning it out to Tucker to see. 

“Your parents make you think too much about dragons,” Tuck chuckled when his eyes flicked from the screen to the notebook. “It’s kinda cute for a dragon,” Tucker admitted with a laugh, staring at the thing’s softer looking fur, large bat-ears. “Though parts of it still look…” he trailed, staring at needle point teeth drawn with quick flicking pencil lines, dagger-claws, scribbled back-spikes that formed a small mountain on the shoulders of the creature. “Unfriendly,” Tucker finished lamely, laughing. “But still, that’s like, not what dragons look like, yeah? They’re like… scaly.” 

“Right,” Danny hummed, continuing to stare at the drawing as though it had a message in it. 

Quiet once again— this time less comfortable, more awkward as Tucker stared at Danny while he looked at the hasty, so-so sketch as though it held the meaning of life. 

“Anyways,” Tucker drawled slowly, deliberately clicking loudly on one of the pulled up tabs— “wanna hear the theories?” 

Danny shook himself, flipped the page away to take notes. “Hit me,” he laughed. 

“Well, I think the  _ least likeliest  _ is some kind of blessing. According to wikipedia, they don’t often show up in big ol’ marks, and are normally given to you straight up and loudly by a fairy or some junk.” 

“I think my parents would’ve hunted a fairy if it showed up like that,” Danny laughed, amused at the picture— though primarily against dragons, his parents generally didn’t trust more magical beasts. 

Tucker chuckled as well. “On top of that, what would the blessing even  _ mean?  _ I mean, no dragons, so like, what would it even be  _ about?”  _

“I  _ guess  _ you could say that it’s like, a personality thing… dragons are usually like, wisdom and fearlessness, right…?” 

“I guess,” Tucker parroted. “Neither of which you are,” he concluded snidely. 

“Hey!” Danny cawed. 

“Doesn’t change the thing about big marks being basically unheard of, if not ever heard of,” Tucker huffed. 

“Next,” Danny hummed, echoing the sentiment. 

“Changeling!” Tucker said seriously. After a moment of solemnity, his face broke and he laughed. 

“Ch, I’m not some goblin,” Danny scoffed. “Also aren’t like, changelings outlawed now? And there’s tests that people get put through to go to school and stuff?” 

“Yeah. And I doubt they’d leave a huge noticeable mark when things are like that, anyways,” Tucker hummed. “It was just, funny to picture,” he said, another picture of a scraggly creature with Danny’s features oddly pasted onto it sending him giggling. Danny rolled his eyes. “The  _ more likely  _ recurring thing seems to be like,  _ druids  _ of all things,” Tucker frowned, pulling up the multiple tabs of  _ animal marks.  _ Pictures of people’s parts decorated with flat animal features pulled up— horns painted around the ears, inky scales on someone’s hands, bird wings on the shoulder blades. Tucker tapped the last one, most clearly similar. 

“But you don’t get  _ born  _ with one of these,” Danny sighed, eyes tracing the info paragraph. “You train pretty hard.” 

“Right.  _ And  _ druids can’t normally master a  _ mythical creature  _ such as a dragon without  _ super hard  _ training,” Tucker huffed. He paused. “Probably why furries don’t end up as druids. Too hard and nature-y,” he mused. 

Danny laughed, bemused. “Still, seems like the closest.” 

“To allow you to be a real furry? Yeah,” Tucker agreed in thought. 

“No!” Danny cawed, peal of laughter escaping. “I mean to  _ my  _ mark.” He reframed the statement: “the druid mark seems closest to mine.” 

“Oh,” Tucker said dumbly. Moving on, he continued, “at least in  _ looks, _ it does.” 

“It’s worth further looking into?” Danny said, half statement half question. 

“Considering our other options?  _ Yeah.”  _

Danny laughed, moving to hunch closer in order to see the screen and read the whole page, eyes skimming the words. 

Tucker jolted in his seat in a way that said  _ idea _ before Danny got to the part the techno geek had reached. At Danny’s questioning gaze, Tuck tapped a part of the text and read aloud— “a magical form, as well as  _ any  _ sort of trapped magic inside these sorts of marks, can be forcibly but painlessly demonstrated with an extremely enhanced purification crystal combined with this circle.” The next words were  _ see below and here for directions,  _ pointing to a picture of a complicated circle with several crystals surrounding it. 

“Huh,” Danny said, rolling the word purification around in his mouth silently while scratching the crystal down in the notebook. A pause. “It’s perfect for what I want, but where do we even  _ get  _ something like that?” 

“Anything is available on the internet,” Tucker said, grinning. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies apologies for the lateness! I have had a crazy time (both good and bad, haha).
> 
> You know, if you haven’t noticed, I’ve been naming the chapters after the hero’s journey… aka the monomyth. We’ve thusly reached the end of the “ordinary world” segment (aka “the introduction” or “the part where we see normal life/routine” bit). 
> 
> I look forward to writing more of this, and I hope you look forward to reading— especially now that things are well and truly moving.


	4. silence

“Thank goodness for fast shipping,” Danny praises overdramatically, clasping the various crystals in his hands.

Tucker laughed, withdrawing other materials from the second box. “Where should we do this?” 

“You really think  _ either  _ of our parents will let us scribble a dangerous looking spell on the floor?” Danny questions. 

“Point,” Tucker concedes, nodding. “Outdoors it is, then!” 

 

xXx

 

Ah, seclusion of a small town; teens on the weekends could galavant off into the woods to do as they pleased so long as they were back at a reasonable time. Of course, such activities were normally related to kissing or rebellion (sometimes both) instead of drawing a complex spell… but still. 

Of course, the latter is what Danny and Tucker were doing, and being nerds they’d never done the former— though, through the grapevine at school, anyone could figure out the “kissing spots.” It wasn’t exactly rocket science (though Danny was fairly decent at those concepts, too). 

The harder part was determining an area that was secluded “enough” while also sparing Tuck’s wimpy physique a hard walk. 

“Muh,” Tucker vocalized, protesting at his aforementioned physique, and that walk. 

“Muh,” Danny agreed, laughing. “Almost there, I think.” 

“How do you  _ know? _ ” Tucker questions. 

“I mean, I used to play a bunch in the woods, and my parents sent me on weird fetch quests,” Danny laughs. “There’s some big, flattish rocks to draw on around here.” A pause. “I think.” 

“Great,” Tucker groused as they rounded a large tree. 

Just as he was about to complain, large rocks appeared past the handful of trees in their way. Danny gave Tucker a smarmy look, earning him an eye roll. 

“So,” Danny huffed, pulling out his phone with the saved picture and instructions. “Let’s get started, I guess?” 

Tucker gave a groan, lifting out the wedge of soft charcoal from the bag to draw, despite his own protesting. “Couldn’t you just use magic or something?” Tuck grumbled as he tossed Danny a second bit of charcoal. 

Danny just laughed at that, then examined the dark smears the charcoal left on his hand from snatching it out of the air as he answered, “nah, my magic’s like, pretty much worthless. Just feels weird and looks pretty.” He pauses. “Guess I could study sorcerer stuff or whatever, but  _ you  _ could study talismans that make this easier,  _ so.”  _

“Yeah,” Tucker ground out allowingly. He paused, thoughtful, then mused, “now that I think about it, your magic  _ does  _ feel weird. Like touching an electrically charged thing and getting those tingly waves.” 

Danny frowned. “How do you know what either of those feel like?” He clarifies— “my magic  _ and  _ the electricity stuff, I mean.” 

“Er.” Tuck paused. “Accident,” he admits uneasily, laughing. “You know. Frayed cords.” 

“And the magic?” Danny ground out. 

“Ah, uh, well. That was an accident too. I just touched the edge of it, behind you, accidentally. Didn’t pay attention to where the edge was— and then I left before you noticed me,” Tucker goes stumbling through. 

Danny drew his eyebrows together— and then laughs,  _ hard.  _

“You’re gonna mess up the circle,” Tucker mumbles, put out. 

 

xXx

 

“Done with this part, I think,” Danny chirped futilely attempting to brush the charcoal off his hands as he inspected his handiwork on the flat, gray jutting rock and the picture on his phone.

Tucker rubbed the charcoal against his segment of the complex circle, drawing an intertwining symbol. “This should be the last one over here, too.” 

Danny hums, acknowledging and pleased, inspecting his phone in a slow walk atop the rock in a circle, inspecting the sigil. Though not any sort of magical expert, Danny had at least absorbed enough information from his parents that messing with wrong symbols could at the very  _ least _ have some bizarre effects when they were magically active— though more common was the issue that they simply didn’t activate. 

“Crystal time,” Danny hummed as Tucker performed his own walk around, more thoroughly inspecting the symbols and carefully swiping smudges. 

Each crystal placed down glowed faintly inside, as though a small light was held within (though not a  _ good _ light; closer to a little tiny LED bulb one would see on christmas decor). Proper place, proper crystal, and a light lit up within as though to say  _ yay, you did it.  _

“I think it’s ready,” Tucker said, nodding back and forth between his phone and the circle as the last crystal lit up. 

Without fanfare, Danny stepped in. 

A moment of silence, heads cocked at the circle. Tucker eyed his phone as Danny queried, “so, how do you activate this…?” 

A moment of silence. 

_ Real  _ silence— the forest surrounding them held its breath, not a creature shuffling (let alone stirring, or heaven  _ forbid _ emitting a vocalization). 

“What the hell are you doing out here, with  _ that _ ?” cawed a black haired girl, ponytail bobbing as she darted out of the thickly silent forest. “Stop!” she continued, yelling. 

Tucker’s hand twitched towards the circle, and Danny’s head turned in query at the new girl while a foot moved as though he was going to move out of it— 

And then the circle burned a crackling green, tower of light erupting, and everything was loud again— including Danny’s own screams. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for it being so long. Between art fight and travelling, I had a crazy month. 
> 
> I’ve accidentally touched an electric thing I was certainly not supposed to touch on several occasions. Kinda hope I’m not alone, but really just glad I didn’t like die. It felt… really weird. 
> 
> Anyways. WOW SO UNEXPECTED WOW NOBOOOODY SAW THIS COMING WOOOOOW…. I mean, I’m not trying to be unpredictable, and I kinda HAD to write this chapter, but let’s be real… yall been knew, we all did. That’s why it’s a bit short.


	5. splitting scream

The lightning roars, and Danny… Danny _screams_ within it. A black shape, a huge and lithe shadow, stretches up within the fountain of green light, and the screeches become more beastial and loud, everything more painful. Something gives way, collapses, and the shadow within is roughly the size of Danny. 

Just… not Danny _shaped._

There is no screaming anymore, only whimpers and labored breathing as the light dies down. 

“Oh,” Tucker wheezes, sounding on the brink of tears. “ _Oh no.”_

The black haired girl finishes her rush up (previously stalled by a fear of the dangerous crackling circle, unbeknownst to Tucker who was only staring within, eyes lit up, also paralyzed), and some part of Tucker’s mind registers her as _“that weirdo Sam”_ — the other part just breathes, “I sacrificed my friend to summon a dragon.” 

Said dragon huffs its breath, bat-ears and giant wings twitching. It sleeps, pain clear on its face. 

Tucker half wants to run up to it, but is unsure what to do _with_ it if he gives into that part. The other half wants to _run._ And frankly, _all_ of him wants to cry. 

So he does. 

“Hey,” Sam says, some rough attempt at gentleness. 

 _Indecision_. Tucker just collapses next to the circle, hands scraping the granite, and cries a bit more, murmuring incoherently. 

“Hey!” Sam caws, far less sensitive and more angered. It is accompanied by a bit of a harsh kick from her combat boot. 

All she gets for that is some watery glare interrupted by more tears. 

She takes what she can, figuring it’s at least acknowledgment. “I don’t think that’s what really happened,” she says, going back to that awkward tone of faux gentleness that so _clearly_ does not suit her.

Tucker blinks, looks up at her in something like hope. Sniffles wetly. 

Sam frowns, a bit disgusted at that last bit. It leaks into her voice, but she still at least tries to remain _amicable_ as she explains (somewhat patronizingly) to the boy, “you didn’t summon a dragon. That would’ve been a _lot_ more magic, and my crystals would react a _lot_ more brightly.” As if it meant anything, she held up crystals shining with a fading green light, as though they were a delayed reflection of the circle’s electricity. “The dragon was just here all along.” 

“Wha?” Tucker stutters, rubbing his eyes. 

“Your friend is still alive, you dolt,” Sam rephrases. “That circle wasn’t going to have an effect _so_ off from the original intent of revealing magic and form.” 

“Wha?” Tuck echoes again.

Sam just smacked her face with one hand, motioned at the dragon with the other. “He _is_ the dragon. Do you need me to spell it out?” she snaps. 

Tucker stares at the black beast as it breathes. He takes a deep breath in with it, calming, then sniffles again. “Danny…?” he murmurs, voice drenched by his previous sobs. The dragon’s ear twitches, as though answering, and the whole thing shifts a little. That urge to run nearly overtakes him despite the dragon’s relative smallness— replacing Danny in mass, really, now that Tucker _looks_ — but Tucker stays rooted. Louder but still gentle, he says, “Danny, wake up.” He does not say _if even you are Danny_ out loud, though he thinks it. 

The dragon’s eye snaps open, a green iris surrounded by a blue sclera. The forest once again holds its breath at the bright eyed beast contained within it.

Looking into that familiar blue, Tucker feels comforted— but the noxious green, trapped electricity from the sigil, makes him _nervous._ Unsure, he twitches back, a strange mixture of familiar and not in those eyes. 

Then the dragon spasms, tail swinging and wings flaring. Tucker lunges back, away, fear instinct of _dangerous animal_ overtaking him. 

Sam sees what’s going to go wrong before Tucker does, and she surges away from the circle as well, albeit for a different reason. 

Danny… Danny looks around, confused but still sleepily docile. Attempts to stumble to his feet, towards Sam and Tucker— collapses, wings folding and claws scraping as his tail flaps for balance, uncontrolled. 

Again, a look of disoriented confusion overtakes the snout of the dragon (who is also Danny, as you know) as he looks blearily across to his friend and… that witchy girl from class whose name momentarily slips his mind. Vaguely, he wonders _why is she here?_ while also happily landing on _oh, it’s Sam!_

“Hey, Danny,” the girl soothes gently, as though she is talking to a cornered animal. She stops, unsure how to continue. They don’t exactly make guides for _how to comfort two kids I barely know because one turned into a dragon,_ after all. 

Danny looks at her, tilts his head, throat still raw from screaming and unsure of their cowering— _was the circle unsafe? Is that why it hurt so much?_ He then gives a grin, trying to go for an _I’m alright_. Tucker shudders and stares at the large needlepoint teeth bared in common animal threat, wide eyed with fear and eyes shining with tears.

Danny misinterprets, his grin faltering. He just thinks, _it must’ve been pretty bad. Would explain why my face feels so off._ More clearly, he gives a thumbs up. 

Then he catches sight of his _hand,_ and what Sam feared would happen _does._

Danny screeches, surprised, and it comes out ear raking. Stumbles backwards, twisting to inspect his body to see _wings, claws, tail_ — all of them whipping and scraping about in an uncontrolled manner. Danny’s mind is just iterations of screamed _what_ s, repeated on loop. Panic.

Sam stays well away of the flailing mess, desiring greatly to not get clubbed by an unintional wing or tail (let alone those nasty claws). 

Surprisingly, it is _Tucker,_ shuddering with fear bht also relief, who steps up closer to the rock through Danny’s screeching, thrashing panic. Sam reaches after him, unsure, but he proceeds— _it_ is _Danny_ is so clearly emanating from him, having been reassured by the smile and thumbs up that seem _so Danny_ on recontextualization (not to mention the clear confusion and utter lack of any malintent). 

“Danny,” Tucker breathes, voice full of utter relief. Danny stops wheeling around, _freezes_ completely and utterly, breathing panicked. Tucker is just thankful it masks his _own_ fearful breathing, that Danny is too distracted to notice that being _that close_ to a dangerous _looking_ creature is shaking Tucker up. 

The boy concentrates on the less frightening parts of the dragon; the long and soft fur, huge ears, gem-bright eyes, graceful arching patterns of white, the green paw pads revealed by the flailing. (He pushes out the _less_ comforting; the luminous spikes adorning Danny’s shoulders and back, dagger claws, needle teeth, the freaky leathery wings). 

Danny breathes, frozen, as though scared to move. Tucker shuffles forward, breathing equally labored. 

“Hey,” he says awkwardly, voice cracking. Despite it all, he cracks a grin as he all but falls forward, looping his hands around the short creature’s long neck, fur soft against the awkward hug. “I’m glad you’re alive.” 

They calm down together. 

“How sweet,” Sam drawls. Danny flinches in Tuck’s arms, ears alert, having forgotten Sam was there. “Normally I’d use this for blackmail, but I guess you get a pass this once.” She pauses. “Though maybe _not,_ considering you two were both _total idiots,_ ” she grinds out, voice loud and irritated. 

Even Danny quails under her glare and voice, neck scrunching and ears twitching down, landing a bit on Tuck’s lap. Tucker does as well, though he also restrains laughter at _Danny._

Sam pins them there like that for another moment, just glaring, before releasing it. 

The tension slides away a bit. Danny tips his head up, opens his mouth— Tucker makes a flinch, at _so many teeth, so close, so sharp._

Danny notices this time and, looking hurt, tips his head away from Tucker’s partially dissolved half-embrace, shucking off the one arm still looped around him and tilting his head off Tuck’s lap. Tucker squirms guiltily as Danny opens his mouth again and makes a confused sound in vague approximation of a “ _what?”_ It comes out more like a “ _hhuua-t?”_ with a softly purring first part and a spat out _“tch”_ at the end. The best he could do, really. 

Sam understands— more the confusion than the general shape of the word, really. “Well, ah,” she starts, trying to get the idea of how to explain the ordeal to _idiots._ “Well, you guys both know these circles are meant for revealing latent, ingrained magic, yes?” 

They nodded together, Tuck scooching closer to Danny during the motion. 

“I thought they were mostly for druid forms, though,” Tucker said unsurely. 

Danny babbled something in addition, fast and unintelligible. At their uncomprehending looks, the dragon grimaced. 

Tucker frowned back, patting the lithe black neck in reassurance. “Danny doesn’t _have_ that, even if his marks kinda looked like that,” Tucker said. Danny motioned at Tucker with claws carefully kept away, eyes bright and ears up, as though to say _yes, that’s what I said!_ Tucker smiled, gave another pat in lieu of something like a high-five. 

“Marks. Interesting,” Sam hummed— “similar to druidic marks…?” she mused, half to herself. 

“But he’s not a druid,” Tucker reiterated. “But yeah, they were wings on his back.” 

In thought, the dragon looked at the manifestation of said wings. They opened up a bit, off the ground where they’d been awkwardly drooped as though thrown carelessly down. 

Even the luminous green spikes that adorned his shoulders were the wings began matched (though he’d always assumed them scales). 

“Right, but they represented the same kind of thing,” Sam said, drawing Danny’s attention back. “A trapped form, trapped magic.” She paused, voice going grimdark as though for a poetry slam— “imprisoned,” she paused, “in the body of an _idiot.”_

Danny looked offended, mouth opened wide, ears back, and eyes bright. To add to the picture, he mockingly pressed a paw to his chest (then frowned slightly at pinching claws). 

Tucker, a little more at ease given more time, elbowed Danny. He earned a head tilt, a question. “You’re the same old you,” he chuckled. 

“Seriously,” Sam raved in the background, “why didn’t you just go see a magical expert, or something?” 

Both Danny and Tucker froze. Looked at each other. 

Danny gave a throaty gurgle in some kind of frustration and grief while Tucker simply (stupidly) observed, “huh, that would’ve been a good idea.” To add to the picture, Danny pressed his head down into his paws as best he was able, gurgling a long moan. 

Tucker stroked and patted at his neck, a semi-mocking _there there you big baby_ motion. “I think we deserve being called idiots this time,” Tucker admitted, and Danny gave a pained nod. Then he turned to Sam— “but how did he _get_ those marks?” 

“That would be the first thing to answer to get him _back_ ,” Sam grit in a tone that said _duh._ At Tucker’s prying gaze, she snapped, “I’m not all-knowing.” A pause. “Though clearly I know more than _you_.” 

“Hey!” Tucker cawed as Danny rocked his head in a kind of _fair enough_ gesture. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Insomnia = more writing. Yay(...?)
> 
> Anyways, gonna draw Danny’s dragon form soon. I have some unfinalized sketches I gotta track down but they are lacking certain details (the main differences being that they aren’t as soft looking nor do they have ears, but fins instead—everything else is much the same). Idk when I will tho, considering I’m flying out for one last summer trip later today haha.


	6. lesser elixir

Danny gargles a question at Sam as she leads the pair away from the forest after their chat, summoning them simply with a “hey idiots, follow me.” 

Sam did not understand the gargling noise in the least, asides from the fact that it  _ was _ a question. 

Danny next attempted to ask, “why are you helping us?” again, this time focusing on each syllable and simplifying the phrase to, “why help?” It came out a little more of a snarly “ _ oo-ey huh-elf.”  _ Dragon mouths kind of sucked at  _ wh _ and  _ p  _ sounds,  _ apparently.  _

Sam just shook her head, clueless. Similarly, Tucker gave a shrug. 

“Anyways,” Tucker hums, “why are  _ you _ helping?” 

Danny let out a punctuated bark of laughter mixed with frustration, startling the other two. 

“And uh,” Tucker starts slowly after that, eyeing Danny confusedly, “where are you taking us…?” 

“I mean I came because I felt the surge with my crystals, and now… well, I’ve got nothing better to do,” Sam whuffed. She eyed Danny. “Besides, a  _ dragon _ ? That’s  _ wicked.”  _ Danny preens, ears swept back— Tucker chuffed him in the head. “My parents would be  _ so  _ pissed if they found I did something crazy like this, and  _ I  _ think it’s  _ awesome,”  _ she continued, grin sharp and determined. 

“Oo-kay,” Tucker drawls, a little weirded out. 

“And the second question— you’re coming to my house,” she answered. 

“We shouldn’t let anyone see him!” Tucker immediately cawed, moving over Danny as though his body could shield him from the mere possibility. Behind him, Danny poked his head up and nodded. 

“Oh I know,” Sam hummed. “People will go crazy if they realize dragons are  _ supposedly _ back. Wouldn’t want that to happen.” 

“You know, I’m kind of getting the impression that’s less for us and more for  _ you _ ,” Tucker mused, skeptical. Danny nodded to second that, pacing behind, awkward on all fours. 

Sam merely shrugged, winding through the forest and followed by her strange entourage. “Secrecy is key,” she dispenses, sounding experienced and wise. “Any sign of abnormalcy and they’ll squash it out, try to take it from you…” she grumbles, trailing. 

Tuck leaned in to the relatively short Danny. “Who’s she talking about now…?” he quipped quietly. Danny’s ears twitched and his head bobbed in amusement, a parody of a snicker. 

Tucker paused to climb over a log. Danny squinted at it, awkwardly clambering to the top, then looked down. 

“Just jump,” Sam snapped, eye roll in her tone. 

Danny did— and ate dirt. It certainly didn’t help that instinctively, his wings snapped open and beat once, getting him up enough for Tuck to squawk out a panicked “what’re you—“ while he was in the air, and a “doing?!” simultaneous to Danny grinding to a halt right into the ground. 

“You know, maybe you’re not that wicked,” Sam groused as Danny shook himself off. Danny merely shrugged, not particularly caring; according to school rumour, Sam was just  _ normally  _ that abrasive. 

Behind her, Tucker sniggered. Danny trotted back over to him, trying to regain some dignity by shooting the other boy a glare. 

Of course, Tucker then took away  _ all  _ his dignity. 

“Dude, did you notice that you’re like,  _ tiny?”  _ Tuck laughed as he sized himself up compared to Danny. 

Danny huffed, embarrassed... but it was  _ sort of  _ true. He was  _ relatively _ the same size as he normally was, but lithely stretched out a bit and walking on all fours. So no, height was not an advantage he had— not that he did  _ normally.  _ Much of his height came from the swan-like neck that awkwardly swung around, making him feel disoriented and distorted in comparison to his normal body proportions. 

Danny just gave Tucker a snout-poke right in the chest— about as high as he  _ could  _ on four legs, and he was nowhere near confident enough in walking to try to balance up on only two of these awkward legs. He was walking like a wobbly fawn on  _ four.  _

Tucker merely snorted at him, batting at his neck. A mirror of their normal interactions; nudges and prods, albeit with only one side of the playful banter. 

“Anyways,” Tucker huffed, nudging Danny’s chortling maw aside, clearly a little more comfortable around the sharp ends, “what’s the  _ plan _ ?” 

“Go to my house,” Sam said in a voice that cawed a  _ duh  _ in its undertones. 

“Well yeah,” Tuck deadpanned— “but how will we get him  _ back?”  _

“Ah,” Sam grunted, missing a step in thought. “Well.” 

“You don’t know,” Tucker completed. 

“About right,” Sam shrugged mulishly. “It’ll be an fun puzzle, or whatever.” 

Danny grimaced.  _ Puzzle. Me being trapped like  _ this  _ is a puzzle.  _ Of course, he couldn’t say that, so he didn’t— though judging from Tuck’s frown, he thought the same thing. 

“I guess the first step would be getting him able to communicate,” she mused. “You’d like that too, I assume,” Sam hummed, eyeing Danny. 

Danny gave her a look of sarcasm and drawled a “ _ no,”  _ to indicate  _ obviously, yes.  _ The “no” actually came out decently close (likely because it required no lips). 

Sam stopped. “ _ No?”  _

“He’s being sarcastic,” Tucker informed, laughing. 

“Ah,” Sam said awkwardly. “Anyways, we’re here,” she motioned— Tuck and Danny popped their heads up from their one sided whispering (well,  _ mostly  _ one sided; Danny  _ tried _ ) and looked at the house. 

Danny gave some kind of shrill that sounded vaguely like a whistle of amazement. Tucker echoed with an actual whistle. 

“I didn’t know you were  _ rich,”  _ Tucker cawed, motioning at the elaborate mansion. 

Sam grunted, obviously not pleased with the reaction. 

“You could be on the A-list no problem! Why do you choose to be like—  _ oof! _ ” Tucker was interrupted by a shoulder nudge from Danny— or it was  _ supposed  _ to be just a nudge at least, but he lost balance— and a bit of a  _ stop talking now  _ look. The nonverbal messages were clear enough, at least. 

That didn’t stop the ones already reaching Sam, though. Danny sent a half-apologetic look to Sam, but she was already tromping to her backdoor. 

“I’ll go check on my parents, see if they’re here,” she snapped. “Wait here, I’ll let you in.” 

And with that, she marched around to the front door, closing the door on yet another gargle that indicated speech. 

Danny thoughtlessly reached up a hand— paw?— to poke Tuck for the rudeness. “Just ‘cuz  _ she’s  _ unpleasant doesn’t mean—“ Danny started, but Tuck interrupted. 

“Dude, can’t understand you, and  _ keep those things away,”  _ he yelped the last part, slapping Danny’s paw away while eyeing the deadly sharp claws. 

Sheepishly, Danny shuffled. Then his face brightened, and he just scribbled  _ rude  _ with a claw, looking very deliberately at Tuck. 

“We’re teenage boys. Since when have we cared for  _ manners? _ ” Tucker cawed indignantly, astounded. 

Danny gave a mullish shrug as Tuck plopped down in the dirt. 

“I can’t believe this,” he whuffed, eyeing Danny— his eyes traced his wings, his tail. Danny shifted awkwardly, suddenly conscious of them. “You’re a  _ dragon _ ,” Tucker iterated the obvious clearly. 

A pause; Danny wasn’t exactly how to respond outside of an unsure nod. 

“What’s it  _ like…?”  _ Tucker trailed. 

Danny cocked his head, considering. Of course, perhaps he couldn’t give an accurate review considering it hadn’t even been an  _ hour  _ since he’d awoken in that  _ stupid  _ circle. 

Carefully, he scratched at the ground with a clumsy claw.  _ Still feels like a dream to me.  _ Good enough of a description, really. For good measure, he added,  _ actually, exactly like one of my dreams.  _ Then Danny underlined  _ exactly  _ three times, in emphasis. 

“You mean you  _ dream  _ of stuff like  _ this?”  _ Tucker asked, looking thoughtful. 

Danny stood on three legs and help up the fourth to tip it in a so-so motion. He slowly scratches a slow,  _ generally being a dragon, yes.  _

Tucker’s eyes blew wide. “That could mean…” 

Danny nodded— it could mean that this was just inside him _ ,  _ dormant all along—  _ how else would magic meant to reveal other magic cause this?  _ That this was merely what he was born with.  _ But how to fix something that has always been there? _

Sam came outside and saved him from answering that question. “Come in,” she barked. “They’re upstairs, so just be quiet.” 

Tucker stepped in first, traced by an ireful glare from Sam as she held the door. Danny slunk in after him, tail dragging awkwardly, uncontrolled. 

Sam let the door fall—  _ right on the tip.  _ Danny barely muffled a screech as the unfamiliar limb burned with pain. Tuck winced and Sam quickly and apologetically shoved the door open. Unthinkingly, instinctively, Danny curled it in, safe. 

“Sorry,” Sam grumbled, looking ashamed. 

Danny gave a shrug— Tucker shot her a glare.

Danny mostly wished he could tell Tucker to remain friendly with her considering that despite her prickliness, Sam  _ was _ their current best bet in terms of help. 

His claws gently clicked on the wood flooring of the kitchen as he prowled through. He frowned at the tiny chinks each step left, claws curved down to poke at the wood. Danny flexed his toes upwards, attempting to keep the claws in— and then they slid in. 

The sensation surprised him enough to cause him to jump, knocking his tense tail into the chair. 

Sam whipped around, eyebrows drawn into a glare at the noise. Danny bobbed his head in a nervous nod before she even could hiss an order of silence. 

Sam lead on, pointing to a staircase, lavish as the rest of the house. Considering his own metallic basement (every part welded by his own parents) Danny didn’t even  _ know  _ basements could be described as  _ lavish.  _ Even  _ normal  _ basements were usually  _ dingy,  _ at best. 

He snorted at the soft feel of the velvet, plush carpet, trailing a paw over it and letting the red fuzz swish. Then Danny frowned as he took a step forward and left a paw print of dark red carpet. 

Awkwardly, he smeared his tail over his footprints; it was slow going considering the thing required concentration to operate, with its newness and all. Sam face palmed while Tucker giggled. 

Eventually, Danny made it across the hallway and went up to the stairs that were decked in more of a ribbon carpet, giving the impression of some fancy place. 

Danny frowned down at his four feet, the stairs suddenly seeming  _ far  _ more complex. Sam and Tucker looked up at him from the bottom, confused. 

Carefully, Danny placed one front foot on the first stair, then the other, spine arching to allow that. Second stair, two front feet. The third required a bit of a stretch… and that prompted Danny to stare back, gently place one back foot on the first stair— 

And instead, fell.  _ Grandly.  _

He yelped a  _ very  _ not-fierce yelp, and his wings snapped out to scrape the artful wallpaper in some desperate and vain bid to stop his fall. 

Tucker and Sam cawed too, rushing out of the way into the recesses of the basement, away from the rolling dragon that was thumping down the stairs. 

Danny thudded to a stop, splayed out in front of the stair bottom, dazed. 

“Sam?” a high pitched, questioning rang out. “You alright?” 

Sam winced, wide eyed, then grabbed a paw of the likely-concussed dragon, motioning Tuck over to do the same. 

As they grunted and tugged Danny out of the way (despite his groany protesting), Sam yelled back “sorry, just dropped something!” 

“It better not have been important!” the yell came back, angrier. 

Sam eyed Danny, collapsing after they hauled him out of possible view, yelling, “don’t worry, it wasn’t.” 

Danny huffed indignantly, shook himself off, standing shakily. 

“Geez,” Tucker shook his head at his friend. “I’m surprised you're fine after that.” He paused, amends— “ _ pretty _ fine.” 

“He’s a dragon,” Sam simply responded, waving her hands dismissively. “They’re like, really hard to kill.” 

“Guess he is,” Tuck hummed, strangely thoughtful. 

“ _ I  _ just can’t believe you didn’t get  _ caught  _ with that idiocy,” she groused, leading the pair further through a— 

“Is that a  _ bowling alley?”  _ Tucker interrupted, head wheeling around. “And a theatre, and a—“ 

“Yes,” Sam cut him off irritably, turning into the dim theatre. 

As soon as the door was closed, Tucker looked down at Danny to tell him a, “that’s creepy, dude.” Sam, at the mention of the word  _ creepy,  _ whipped around to look at Danny and nodded approvingly. 

Danny frowned, asked a “ _ what?”  _ in the form of chirpy shrill. 

Tucker motioned first at his eyes— shining intensely in the semi-dark— then to his spikes. Danny whipped his head around to look at the former, stretching awkwardly around to catch a glimpse of his shoulder blades and wing-fingers— the noxious blue-to-green things  _ glowed. _

Sam touched the first, biggest spike reverently, running her hand from the luminous green main part down to the base where it faded to a glowing cyan. Danny gave a shudder at the unfamiliar sensation; it felt vaguely like someone running a hand along one’s fingernail— lacking sensation, but still  _ there.  _

Sam removed her hand, nodding approvingly again, eyes shining with eagerness. 

Danny shuddered again as he clumsily continued to amble, and Tucker shared a weirded-out expression with him— though he did poke at Danny’s spike (looking significantly less awed). 

“My grandma made this secret base for me, since my parents...,” Sam explained then trailed off as she came to a stop in front of a chair. She pressed a pattern into the reclining controls, and a pneumatic hiss was issued as the chair folded itself up and revealed a set of stone stairs. 

“Ooh,” Tucker murmured, though he did appear hesitant at the whole  _ secret goth cave  _ thing.

Danny just groaned as he eyed the stairs. 

“We’re carrying you this time,” Sam grunted. 

Danny blinked, and before he could process that, she’d wrapped her arms around his upper waist, behind his legs. 

Danny squawked, squirming a bit, insolent. 

“It’s a long, winding staircase,” Sam huffed, lifting despite his squirms. 

After a moment, Tucker huffed and Danny felt hands on his lower waist as well. He shot Tuck a look of betrayal, only to earn a shrug in response. 

“This is for the best, probably,” Tucker admitted. 

And so, step by step, they hauled a limp but  _ very  _ indignantly chatty Danny down, Sam going backwards first and Tucker in back, frontwards. The latter had to stop for breaks— often leaving Sam to simply continue to drag Danny’s front half, much to Danny’s irritation. 

By the end, where Sam simply dropped Danny’s weight, even  _ she  _ was puffing. 

Danny shook himself off, stretching the soreness of their dragging grips away— much like a cat— and them fixed both with a glare of betrayal. Much like before, he was only met with shrugs. 

Danny then examined his surroundings, taking in the truly witchy-looking room lit dimly by candles, draped in various purple-black cloths, and filled with talismans and sigils. 

Once again, Danny’s spikes, eyes, and wing-fingers were glowing, causing an ear flick of irritation— wasn’t there a way to turn them  _ off?  _

With just that thought, the glow was gone, leaving the trio blinking. Danny looked back.  _ On—  _ and back they came. He blinked them playfully a couple times while grinning at Tucker, who grinned right back.  _ Off-on-off-on-off…  _

Sam stepped away from the rave-like mess. “ _ That’s  _ what you guys find fun or  _ whatever  _ about you being a dragon?” 

Danny and Tucker looked at each other, then both shrugged. Sam threw her hands up exasperatedly, flashing in the luminous glow. “Keep it on,” she groused. 

Danny blinked, then narrowed his also-glowing eyes in some kind of amusement and curiosity. The glow of his spikes and eyes grew— then kept growing. He stopped just short of  _ blinding  _ before lowering it to “normal.” Privately, Danny wondered how much further that could be pushed; externally, he waggled his head proudly at Sam’s glare.

He wasn’t going to be  _ antagonistic _ to his only source of help, but perhaps he could be a bit  _ grating  _ in _ direct  _ response to snappishness; she  _ started  _ it with that prickly attitude, really. 

“Go learn to walk and experiment somewhere else,” Sam snapped after that, making a  _ shoo  _ motion towards another dim room. “I’m gonna find a charm to help you talk. I’ll tell you if I need you.” 

Danny nodded allowingly, then shared a grin with Tucker as they strolled over. 

Sam rolled her eyes at them, walking into another room and closing the door. 

“That was bright— but can you go  _ brighter _ ?” Tucker wondered first. 

Danny shrugged, but shook his head. He blinked a couple times with emphasis, then scrunched his eyes up, attempting to get the message of  _ don’t want to do that with you  _ to Tucker. 

“Probably a good idea not to do that, yeah,” Tuck agreed thoughtfully. “What about… can you control the light of separate bits?” 

Experimentally, Danny flexed that same  _ off  _ muscle, just thinking in relation to his back-spikes. Immediately, they dulled. Staring and concentrating further, he twitched  _ on  _ in relation to just  _ one—  _ that worked, too. 

Tucker grinned, eyes widening as a light pattern swirled through the spikes, watching as Danny first ran the light along his back, spike by spike. He then lit up one and ran the light up and down an individual spike, base glowing an overpowering bright blue alone, then the green taking over when given light. 

Tucker clapped, laughing like a child. Danny smiled, same kind of wonder on his face as cold light lit the room a neon green with hints of bright blue. 

“Impressive,” Tucker cawed. “Do your paws glow?” he questioned. Danny tipped his head at him. “I mean, they’re that same green color,” Tucker elaborated, thinking back to when Danny was going to poke him. “Your claws, too.” 

Danny plopped down, tail swishing behind him. He lifted a front paw— and sure enough, the green claws and pads of his feet glowed. Experimentally, he switched it on and off as well, gem eyes watching and ears pricked, intrigued. 

Tuck paused to glance at the latter part— “how well can you hear?” 

Danny gargled an, “everything is loud now,” but Tucker merely looked befuddled. Danny gave a shrug after that. 

“Too hard to answer without clawing writing on Sam’s stuff, huh?” Tucker huffed. “If you knew morse, or something…” he trailed off, then shrugged. 

Danny mirrored him, shrugging again.

“Alright then, uh, next experiment,” Tucker hummed, trying to come up with one. His eyes roved Danny’s body, causing him to wiggle uncomfortably, awkward. “How far do those stretch?” he questioned, pointing to Danny’s well folded, tern-shaped wings. 

Danny stared, and once again thought hard on flexing unfamiliar muscles. Unfortunately, he overestimated the thought, and the wings  _ snapped _ open, barely missing the walls. Their lithe form was on display, lengthy but narrow. 

Danny and Tucker frowned at the odd shape together— Danny with more thought than Tucker, considering he was interested in space and aeronautics was a part of that. The things were built for maneuverability, but also for low energy flight. Weird, considering most dragons were bulky, and their aerial maneuverability… well, it was none, really. 

Danny looked at Tucker consideringly as he folded his wings up well, awaiting yet another question to pass the time. 

“How about like,” Tucker stammered, filling time to come up with another— “what’s your stomach?” 

Danny cocked his head in a  _ what?  _

“It’s like, a different thing, looking at it. Not… furry,” Tucker huffed. He pointed at it— indeed, it was smooth looking. 

Danny shrugged, but motioned a paw in a  _ come over.  _

Tuck stepped forwards. “Uh, what?” 

Danny tipped his head up— the white “stomach” pattern started on his lower jaw and went down his neck, after all, and it was far less awkward to touch  _ there.  _

Danny felt an unsure hand on his throat, warm and without the same sensitivity as skin. The hand ran down a bit, experimentally rubbing. 

“It’s scales,” Tucker said, confused. “I mean, you’re like, covered in fur or whatever—“ as though to prove it, he touched at the fuzz— “possibly feathers,” he admitted, “but still, like, not scales. I may not be a science geek, but don’t those like, not mix?” 

Danny shrugged. 

“I guess we  _ are  _ dealing with dragons— what should I expect,” Tucker huffed. Danny huffed with him. 

“But like, why not just fur?” Tuck hummed, and Danny gave  _ yet another  _ shrug. “I wonder if you’re like, a real dragon species,” Tucker continued, eyeing the weird mix of features— glowing bits, patchworked materials, odd wings, the whole ordeal. 

Danny looked himself over thoughtfully too, snorting at the thought of  _ my own species.  _

“Too complicated,” Tucker dismissed. “What’s it like to—“ 

From the doorway, Sam interrupted with a devilish, “be naked?” 

Danny screeched, embarrassed— Tucker, the traitor, burst out into hysterics. 

“Found something,” Sam informed Danny over Tucker’s snorts. 

Danny trotted after her, glaring at the both of them— and if he could blush, he would’ve been. 

In the other room— this one decked with far more books than sigils, artifacts, and creepy curtains (though it still had its fair share of those)— sat a cracked open book amidst its clear library. Sam stood next to it, tapping the open page for him to view.

_ How to talk to your pet,  _ the top of the page was titled. Sam lifted it to reveal the cover—  _ Book of Technically Functional Magics.  _ “Technically” was underlined. 

Danny cocked his head, pressing his nose to the title as Sam eyed said spell. Sam flipped it over, brows drawn in an attempt to interpret his query, then lit up. “ _ Technically  _ as in they do what they were supposed to, but don’t work for another reason.” She tapped the selected spell again— “this one would work if what animals were saying could be translated to a complex spoken language,” she explained as example. “I remembered trying this one before I realized it was a dud, before even finding the book, so I was able to find it again pretty fast.” 

Danny nodded, eyeing the graphic of necklaces instead of swimming through the sea of words. Sam explained the spell simply as soon as she saw Tucker entering anyways— “basically, we need to make these necklaces and imbue them with a spell, then wear them— if we touch you while you’re talking while we’re wearing these, we’ll understand you,” she explained. 

“Inconvenient, but still better than nothing,” Danny mused— worthlessly and in vain, of course; it was just cute chirps, though Sam could tell he was generally pleased with it from the tone, at least. 

Tucker leaned over and skimmed the page, which was being held out of Danny’s view (albeit unintentionally). 

He raised a brow, reading off a passage— “ _ the pet must sit and stew in the potion to be hardened into the gem, and part of it must be calcified into the necklace.”  _ The book went on in steps how to do that. 

Tucker and Danny made a face, while Sam only shrugged. “Just think of it as a hot tub or something,” she mused— then drew them back with a motion, leading them to a room filled with potion supplies; ingredients, cauldrons, and ladles, all trapped in a stone room. “We have to use a big one, considering,” she mused, pointing towards the wide but relatively shallow cauldron with stylized brass hippo feet.

Danny dragged a paw over his face and down his snout, then clambered into the thing. He curled his tail so that it fit, then rested his chin and wings on the rim of the thing. 

One wing bumped a table, causing a precarious wobbling as ingredients clinked together. Danny froze after that, making himself small and dropping his wings off, down, rather than out. 

Sam just glared, then began rattling off orders to an indignant Tucker, cauldron already getting warm— and Danny getting sleepy. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want to picture the sounds Danny makes, think Toothless hah. Chirps, gurgles, and vague catty noises.
> 
> Yeeeeah as of right now Sam’s a little bit prickly but more of her true colors will show (and those true colors are that she's a bit lonely and just wants some pals). I just thought this fic would be a bit enriched by their developing friendship, especially since in the show she seemed less close to Danny than Tuck.


	7. supernatural aid

It’s another dream. Danny knows it is a dream, and the same flavor as other dragon related dreams; the idea that the dream is real rests on his tongue, as always (and now he’s more inclined to believe them for obvious reasons).

Yet… this one… it is  _ so different.  _ It is not the green drake, nor is it dreams of star-born flight. No, it is in a place of chokingly thick, deep maroon mists. In them, a vague figure stands, vaguely humanoid but possessing U-shaped horns, and its gleaming red eyes cut through the fog in an otherworldly fashion. Everything else is obscured by a robe and the mist itself. 

Danny looks down, sees his own feet as black paws standing on a vaguely swirling, dark surface. It feels smooth, like obsidian. 

He doesn’t dare move closer to the figure, instead calling out a small chirpy, “hello?” 

Its eyes crinkle into what could be a smile. Danny swears he sees the glint of fangs. “Hello,” it rasps back. “I see you are caught in a form not your own,” the things gurgles. 

“Ah,” Danny says, glancing back at himself. “Uh, yeah.” He considers how the being  _ knows,  _ but shoves that aside— despite being inexperienced with the magical world, he knows enough to recognize he is being approached by some being of power. What else could manipulate a dream, and appeared so boldly fae-like? 

“Allow me to help,” the creature seems to grin again, masculine voice slick. Its head turns, revealing a short snout in place of a human face. Danny squints and swears that he catches a glint of blue. 

“Ah— uh, that would be very helpful!” Danny exclaims loudly and quickly, ducking down and bending into an approximation of a bow, folding his wings. He feels so dreadfully awkward in the face of something clearly powerful, pulling out the little knowledge of magic-based manners he knows. 

The creature just hums as though it is pleased and doesn’t retract its offer, so Danny considers his efforts successful. “That  _ is  _ the point,” it drawls, sarcastic. Before Danny could stumble through a response, it continues— “there is something you must do for  _ me,  _ however.”

Danny tips his head and nods, glad to do anything for aid. 

Once again, the creature seems pleased. “I will place in your head the knowledge of various of various wisps. Obtain these for me, and I shall return you to your original form.” 

“Easy enough,” slips out, cocky. 

The creature ( _ thankfully _ ) takes no offense. 

It is gone in a swirl of dispersing blue and red, mist exiting with it, leaving Danny alone in the glossy black. 

At the edge of his awareness, small flames appear, a myriad of colors. 

Something in them  _ screams  _ in a thousand voices and Danny suddenly wants to hide— he is saved from that when he feels a painful tearing at his neck, and wakes, eyes snapping open. 

 

xXx

 

“You couldn’t’ve waited ‘til he was awake?” Tucker barks, defensive. 

Sam shrugs, fistful of fur in her hands as the dragon it came from blinked dazedly. 

Tucker turned to Danny, dispensing a laughed, “nice nap?” 

Danny grawked about his dream— falling on deaf ears, of course. He then gave a short sigh, settling on nodding. 

“Good,” Tucker hums, then points to the tub, filled with a thick purple sludge. Danny frowned at it, disgusted. “Almost done,” Tuck chirps. 

“It looks gross,” Danny puts in, twitching a foot underneath the viscous stuff experimentally and wincing. His message need not be translated; disgust is easily understood considering his expression mixed with his tone. 

Sam glares, but doesn’t object to the noise of repulsion. Instead, she takes a ladle-ful of the mix, spoons it into a crytal mold where she’d already placed the ripped-out fur. Two careful pours, and the grape-sized stones are ready to be hardened. 

Tuck eyes Danny stewing in the leftovers. “Why’d we need so much?!” 

“He had to sit in it. He’s big,” Sam patronizingly explains, as though to a young child. 

Tucker gave a glare. 

Meanwhile, Danny made to get out, wrapping his front feet around the rim of the cauldron to push out. 

“Hey— let us help—“ Sam got out— before a terrible sloshing and  _ clang.  _ The cauldron tipped over, dispensing Danny and the sludge on the ground. The goo pooled around the spread-eagle dragon, viscous. 

Sam slapped her face. “Get a mop from the back. I’ll finish these,” she growled, preparing a fire for hardening with burning sage. 

Tucker walks back hands up in surrender, snorting when he passes his friend. Danny snorts back at him, half offended and half amused. He pulls himself off the floor, trots ahead of Tucker while dripping purple. 

Tucker takes one mop leaning against the wall along with the bucket. Danny awkwardly attempts to grab the spare in his mouth, twisting his head to make snapping grabs. Eventually, Tucker takes pity and pushes the stick into his open mouth while Danny is aiming a third time. 

With a thankful glance from Danny, the two walk back, the dragon awkwardly guiding the mop through knockable potions and cauldrons, head tipped and neck kinked. 

Tucker easily gets to work. Once again, Danny has a harder time, attempting to force the mop in his mouth to be perpendicular- _ ish  _ to the ground by tipping his head around. 

When that doesn’t work, he gets hit by an idea after momentary deliberation while chewing on the wood. The mop  _ ca-tunk _ ed to the ground, and Danny wrapped his paws around the thing. Carefully, slowly, the dragon stands, quickly propping the mop beneath him to support the weight his front legs would ordinarily take. 

Raptor-like, he leans on two legs once more. 

...Until a snap rings out, the mop stick breaking and leaving him knocked to the ground, winded. 

Sam stomps over at the  _ snak-thump  _ of breaking wood and falling dragon (respectively). She glares at Danny as he rises to his feet, then continues to stomp over to the bucket, grabbing a rag that was draped across the side. She chucks it at him, getting a wet slap as the thing drapes itself across Danny’s snout. 

He went cross-eyed looking at the thing, then tipped it off his nose and began scrubbing the floor vigorously to the sounds of Tucker’s snorting and Sam’s stomps as she walked back to her spell. 

 

xXx

 

“Done,” Tucker and Sam say at the same time. The two share a little laugh as Danny uses a paw to drop the rag back on the rim of the bucket— now foaming with the watery purple solution.

Both boys trot over to see Sam thread a short cord through the purple stones. 

“First, you need to breathe on them,” Sam instructs, holding them up to Danny. 

The stones dangle in front of his maw, but he does as told and gives a warm breath, causing the things to wave a little.

Same retracts them, and the three watch as something glints bright green inside and keeps flickering— like a trapped spark. She nods approvingly, handing off one stone to Tucker and looping the own around her neck. 

“Is that it?” Danny questions— then startles a little when he feels a hand on each shoulder. 

“Gotta be touching you,” Tucker reminds awkwardly. 

“Oh,” Danny grunts. “Can you, uh…?” he trails off, unsure. 

Tucker’s grin gets splittingly wide. “Yes!” 

Meanwhile Sam grouses an irritated, “you doubted me?” 

“Well, it was the book of  _ technically  _ functional magic,” Danny shoots back with a laugh. 

Sam shrugs, then shudders at the purple slime that graced her fingers by touching the dragon. “You need your  _ own _ mop down.” 

“Normally I’d resent that,” he put in. “But…” he trailed, grimacing and looking at himself demonstratively. 

Sam and Tucker nodded, removed their hands— causing him to give a little “hey, wait.” Ignoring him, Tucker grabbed a rag and Sam left to refill the bucket with cleaner water. 

“I can just take a bath,” Danny said once Tucker returned his hand to him by rubbing the rag at his fur. “It would probably soak out—“

“It’s too sticky for that,” Tucker shot back, rubbing harshly at the liquid. 

Behind him, Sam clunked a bucket down, water sloshing. 

“Fine,” Danny grit out as Sam joined him in washing, rubbing the iridescent purple out of his fine fur. “I guess I’ll tell you about my dream while this goes on, then,” he ground out in allowance, tipping his head thoughtfully. “Got nothing else to do,” he muttered. 

“Huh?” Tucker grunted, rag brushing over the dragon’s ribcage. 

Thoughtlessly, Danny gave a warbling purr of pleasure. Nobody mentioned it— though Sam and Tucker shared a look like they were about to burst over the cuteness— and so Danny continued. “Yeah,” he hummed, lax. “Weird dream, some… dragon… guy…  _ thing _ came to me, told me he could get me back to normal.” Danny paused, continued to melt into the touch. “He said I had to get some stuff and he’d make me normal again.” 

Sam paused. “You got approached by a  _ demon?”  _

“Or a fae,” Danny defended. 

“That’s not  _ better _ ,” she hisses, pausing. “And you said yes?” Sam pushed. 

“Mmhm,” Danny warbled, human-sounding translated tone melty and dragon-warble beneath it pleased. He looked half a pet away from abandoning dignity and simply lolling over in a complete trance. 

Sam slaps her rag, hitting a skinny leg and getting a satisfyingly harsh, wet sound. Danny grimaces, snapping out of the haze. 

“What  _ else  _ was I supposed to do?” he caws. “I may not know  _ too  _ much about that sort of thing,” he quickly admits and Tucker nods along, relating. Danny continues, regaining energy— “but I  _ do  _ know if I said something like  _ ah yes thank you I’m quite happy _ —“ he does this last part in an annoyingly fluttery, high voice, sugar sweet— “that he would’ve like, _ trapped  _ me,” he snaps,  _ trapped  _ accompanied by a sharp bark. 

Sam huffs, cooling a bit. “Fine. But still, now we kind of  _ have  _ to do whatever he wants— or else it’s likely you  _ will  _ be trapped.” 

Danny gulps, then shuffles and moderately changes the topic— “at least we now better know my dreams are like,  _ definitely _ related,” he hums, considering dreams of curses and glorious flight. 

Tucker paused in his scrubbing at a particularly nasty purple splotch, then snorts. “Probably not the ones about yetis, though. Or unicorns, or fighting food, or—“ 

“No, not the ones that were most likely caused by mom’s tainted cooking,” Danny allows with a laugh. 

 

xXx

 

“I guess if I’m not going to be normal again for a while, I should learn to walk,” Danny muses to Tucker, who still has a hand placed on the beast. He pauses, adds in a half sheepish and half excited and half excited tone, “maybe these, too,” and stretches his wings. 

Tucker grins wide, anticipatory.  _ Flight.  _ Even for one scared of heights, the prospect of such enthralled any. On top of that, Tucker was not blind to Danny’s love of space nor his ordinary longing glances at the night sky. 

While Tucker grins like a loon, Danny falls back into contemplation.  _ Go back to normal.  _ Something about the statement feels off;  _ was I ever normal?  _ Danny would be  _ completely  _ clueless if he couldn’t recognize  _ some  _ abnormal feelings; the wings he felt on his back sometimes, the need to bare fangs or raise ears, the unclassifiable magic, the desperation for  _ flight.  _ With his parents  _ the way they are,  _ normalcy was out of the question in the first place no matter his desires— all that merely sealed the deal.

_ Parents— how could I think about leaving my family behind like that? They may be weirdos, but…  _

Danny shakes himself from traitorous whispers, and his mind latches onto something related to the  _ parent  _ train. 

And that, of course, is, “holy crap, what do I tell my parents?” which is cawed out loud by Danny to a surprised Tucker. 

Tuck’s grin falls away quickly, frown overtaking it. “Just uh,” he stammers. “Camp...?” he trails, no good excuses. 

“ _ School,”  _ Danny moans, shooting it down. “They would never…” he trails, tail lashing in worry, ears pinned. Tuck’s hand is stabilizing on his neck, though somewhere Danny reminds himself  _ it’s just because it’s needed to talk.  _

“Tell them?” Tucker asks carefully. 

He puts one hand up as Danny wheels on him, picture of worry. His eyes gleam fearfully. “I don’t want them to  _ hunt  _ me,” Danny murmurs, soft and reedy. 

“Yeah,” Tucker agrees dumbly, stumped. Pauses. “Well, break  _ is  _ kind of… close _ ish,  _ right?” 

“Spring break is in  _ two weeks _ ,” Danny grumbles. 

“One and a half,” Tuck corrects. “So we just need to fake it ‘til then,” he reaffirms, gives a determined nod. The change in tone makes Danny cock his head, prick his ears up. 

“Ok, ok,” he concedes, a little mollified (though the situation is still  _ a mess _ ) and gives a long bellowy sigh. 

Sam glances up from studying— trying to find the mysterious demon-fae, trying to find why he’d be interested, and more info in general on such a transformation— looking at the two in askance. Danny had just let out a spectacular sigh in frustration, after all. Sam had “disconnected,” unwilling to partake in anything vaguely resembling a cuddle pile (meanwhile, Tucker was leaned up against Danny’s side-facing chest, of opposite opinion). 

“Just talking about school,” Tucker fills in, injecting appropriate disdain into the word “ _ school _ .” 

“A bit of a problem,” Danny interjects in a gurgle— in vain of course, considering Sam still isn’t touching him, sitting at a desk. 

She just frowns down at him as though that alone that could deter his efforts to talk. “That is a problem,” she (unknowingly) agrees. “Not much, though,” she shrugs, dismissive. 

Danny makes an untranslatable noise in the back of his throat, one of shock and amusement. 

“Have you  _ met  _ his parents?” Tucker scoffs, echoing the sentiment of the sound. “They’re not just crazy about dragons— they’re nuts about a  _ good education, _ ” Tucker explains, saying the last two words in a mockingly high voice (oddly, neither of Danny’s parents sound like the pristine, strict stereotype he is imitating). 

Danny nods along with an appearance of wise solemnity. “My grades  _ are  _ pretty good, though,” he trails, then picks up— “so  _ maybe _ they’ll let me off the hook, kinda? Or maybe just… check less… or not suspect anything  _ way  _ weird…?” Danny trails again. 

Sam looks annoyed at the gurgly warbles she can’t understand, grabbing a book and zooming her wheeled chair over with a shove, then shucks off a combat boot. Danny grunts as she places a foot directly on his tail, gives a light glare— Sam is already back to reading and this impervious, though. 

“Just said that maybe they’d be a little lenient to the weirdness since my grades are good,” Danny reiterates, then wiggles his tail under Sam’s foot just to be a little irritating (it is, after all,  _ a foot  _ on what he chooses to equate to his back). 

A glare grows at Sam’s face, but she stays concentrated on the book. “Guess  _ you _ ’ll just figure it out,” she grunts, nonplussed. “It is what it is.” 

“You can’t, I don’t know, do  _ some  _ spell, or something?” Tucker caws, questioning. 

Sam looks up from her book, snapping shut a picture of a typical demon with a frustrated sigh. “I’m not  _ all powerful,”  _ she grouses, an echo of an earlier statement. “I can’t do everything with magic,” she hisses. 

Danny puts his paws up in the air, placating before Tucker can snap something back. “It’s fine. In a way, you’re right— it is what it is.” He blows air out, and it whistles past his fangs and green tongue. “Even if it sucks.” A hefty pause resides before Danny speaks again— “just don’t worry about that if there’s nothing to do. We can try forging up something, or something?” he says, unsure. 

“Mm,” Tucker frowns, successfully moving away from an argument. “Forgery is  _ possible,  _ but it’s complicated. Lots of chances for failure,” he mumbles. “I would know. I’m experienced,” he wisecracks, earning an eye roll from the two more studious of the trio. “Anyways, a more  _ believable  _ lie would be that something happened and you had to leave, or that forced you to leave,” he sighs, then trails a mumble, “but what would happen that your parents didn’t know…?” 

Danny frowns— then grins, unpleasantly wide and sharp with needle-teeth. His voice is pure happiness though, a startling contrast. “What about  _ magic?”  _

“I already said—“ Sam begins— Danny cuts her off. 

“Not real magic. We’d just have to  _ say  _ something,” Danny interrupts, still smiling unpleasantly and thus challenging Tucker not to wince. “We just say like, a portal opened up, or that I’m like, dealing with faes, or something went wrong with a sigil,” he hums. “Though— we need to make something not too bad, I don’t want them too worried,” Danny says, concern leaking in. “And something not too easy for them to figure out or get— something with a time limit,” the dragon injects, thoughtful. 

“I thought you said you didn’t know magical stuff very well,” Sam scoffs, half offended and half impressed with his ideas. 

“I know it well enough to know what to avoid in my house,” Danny shoots back with a grimace.

“Your house sounds awesome,” Sam breathes, picturing said dangerous magic. 

Danny and Tucker eye her, then each other, weirded out while also on the brink of laughter. 

“Anyways,” Danny injects. “We just need to figure out something,” he huffs, considering. “Maybe— uh, well, I’ve had problems with their portal stuff they make,” Danny says, clearly embarrassed. 

“They make  _ portals? _ ” Sam questions, clearly amazed. 

Danny gives a slow, pained nod. “There was a time where they thought dragons were hiding in another realm, so they went  _ crazy  _ with warps and portals to try to get there,” he sighs. “And now, well, our house is kinda’ a portal fault line. Super unstable,” Danny huffs, closing his eyes and frowning. “Unstable enough to send me on unwanted trips,” he grouses. 

“So cool,” Sam sighs, while Tucker laughs at the idea of a sleep addled Danny blinking in random locations. 

“Anyways, they usually appear in the kitchen at witching hour, so. I could call tomorrow night and say I forgot whole going for a midnight snack or something; usually they send you back quickly, but we can say this one is stable so it would last?” Danny continues, lilting the last part into an unsure question. “Then it’s just a matter of waiting ‘til I ‘snap back,’ yeah?” 

“That’s a surprisingly good plan,” Sam hums. “And it could work, from a magical perspective.” 

“I can see your parents buying it and not worrying too much,” Tucker continues, positive. 

“There is one problem,” Danny hums, then demonstratively makes a draconic sound of no meaning. “I can’t call them.”

“Voice manipulation I can do,” Sam grunts, trying to hide excitement at new potion creation. “You two… go do something, or whatever. Boy stuff,” she shoos them off, suddenly closed off yet clearly eager to get working. “I have all the ingredients for a short call,” Sam affirms. “There’ll be no more messes or distractions in the potion room,” she grumbles at Danny, an order to stay out as she closes the door behind her. 

“So,” Tucker draws, slow. “What did you say about learning…?” 

“We’d have to leave,” Danny nervously inputs. “Go outside.” 

Tucker makes a  _ psh-ah  _ sound. “Let’s go, then!” 

 

xXx

 

Danny, hyperaware, tilts his ears around, catching hums of the forest. 

Tucker kicks a rock, crunching his feet in the leaves, and Danny winces. 

“There’s not gonna be any hunters,” Tucker scoffs, nudging his friend with his hip. 

Danny chirps a tittery laugh, still clearly nervy. He shakes himself off, tries to refocus— step, step,  _ legs move like this now,  _ unfamiliar muscles tugging in unfamiliar ways.  _ Step, step.  _

Concentration ingrains it into his mind.  _ Step, step. _

 

xXx

 

After about half an hour of walking, largely not talking, Tucker is impatient, checking his phone for the time discreetly (but Danny can hear the ruffle of his pockets, the _ ca-chik  _ of the phone turning on). 

Danny touches a tail tip to Tuck’s leg to be heard. “You don’t have to be here,” he grunts. 

“I know,” Tucker affirms, then nods forward.  _ Onwards.  _

“I think I got it anyways,” Danny lies. 

Tucker looks at him, doubt in his gaze. “Half an hour’s not long to get the hang of four legs,” he grunts. 

“Mm,” Danny sighs. A  _ you got me.  _ “How about we meet at the meadow, then, and you can go grab something to do,” Danny compromises. “If you still want to stay,” he injects, voice a little more wavery and unsure. 

“I thought I killed you doing stupid magic like, not even three hours ago,” Tucker snaps— “no way am I going home yet.” 

 

xXx

 

The meadow meeting goes without incident; Tucker brings a portable game system, and Danny just trots around, pleased. 

Time passes, and Danny slowly gets genuinely better, graduating to less  _ step step,  _ and some more trotting, galloping, leaping. 

“You learned fast,” Tucker says, watching as Danny easily leaps and balances on various logs strewn in the meadowy spot. Content, Danny hops in the grass that comes up to his neck, and gallops over to Tucker, looking like a happy puppy. 

Danny brushes against Tuck’s leg, careful not to knock him off the rock-seat said leg is dangling from. “Just had to not think about it, I guess.”

“Huh?” Tucker grunts in question, eloquent. 

“Like, I don’t know. In my dreams, I always know how to walk around like this,” he hums. “So I just thought that, I dunno, I was thinking too hard about how my normal legs move?” Danny questions. 

“So you’re saying that whole—“ he pauses, checks his phone— “two hours could’ve been spent doing something else if you just learned to trust your instincts,” Tucker snorts, laughing. 

“Maybe,” Danny purrs. “Took some time to get used to it generally, though,” he admits, lifting his legs in a high stepped trot, disconnecting from Tucker’s touch as he prances in a circle around the rock. 

“Now…  _ now _ it’s time to test your limits,” Tucker says, awful daredevil grin spreading as he puts his game system to sleep. 

Danny stops, tilts his head up questioningly with a  _ murr.  _ There needs not be a connection to understand Danny’s, “huh?” 

“How fast can you go? How much can you carry? How high can you jump?” Tucker starts off, excited, sliding down from the rock. In lieu of continuing to list off questions, he merely reverently whispers, “dragon parkour.” 

Danny cackles at the image—  _ him,  _ a physical and gymnastic powerhouse? Of course, Tucker’s tests  _ did  _ pique a somewhat childish interest— and a bit of a scientific one (it was in his genes, no matter how he deny such). 

And so, Danny gives Tucker a needley smile— then takes off like a shot to answer the first question of speed. 

 

xXx

 

When Sam next sees the duo as she goes to the texted forest spot, Danny is significantly more scuffed up. And, more significantly, he is carrying Tucker on his back, the boy awkwardly positioned between the spikes as Danny puffs laboriously. 

Danny’s ears drift towards her first, then his gem bright eyes alight in acknowledgment. 

“Alright, guess you can lift me,” Tucker says, sliding off and  _ tak-tak-tak _ ing that down in his phone. He pauses, looks down at the dragon, and adds, “though it’s obviously hard. Makes sense, since we’re nearly the same size and all.” 

“Just different layout now,” Danny wheezes, brushing Tuck with a wing. 

“What the hell,” Sam observes. Tucker jumps, and Danny raises his other wing in an odd waving greeting. 

“Testing limits,” Tucker says, as though that explains it. “Oh, oh! We should add stealth later!” 

Sam walks over, touching Danny’s tail to be part of the conversation. “What have you tested, exactly?” 

“Er, so far, I’ll just read them off, first the standard stuff, which by the way is the same as normal… height, 3-foot-5. Length, 5-foot-4. Weight, 138 pounds. Now the not so normal— wingspan, 11-foot.” Tuck paused. “I still can’t believe that. They fold up so well.” 

“I know!” Danny cawed, folding and unfolding one of the narrow things, stretching it above their heads.

Tucker continued clinically— “Ground speed, 45 miles per hour. Load, about 50 pounds reasonably on the back, can be pushed further to include people. Jump height with no wings, 7 feet. Jump  _ length  _ without gliding, 13 feet.” Tucker taps his screen with the data demonstratively. “That’s all we’ve got.” He pauses, continues— “later, we’re gonna run an obstacle course, but right now…” Tuck trailed off, motioning at his panting friend. 

“Guess the only thing missing is flight stuff,” Sam muses, impressed at the dragon’s agility though unwilling to say so. 

Danny’s head bobs up. “No,” he growls. “Not yet.” 

“But  _ flying,”  _ Sam emphasises. 

“But  _ crashing _ ,” Tucker steps in.

 “Need to learn better,” Danny snaps through deep, tired breaths. 

“Fine, fair,” Sam allows, then pokes at her point of contact. “You better have enough energy to haul your butt back.” 

Danny grunts, tugs himself up. “And enough control to get down the stairs,” he says, proud. 

“Well, you  _ did  _ get  _ down  _ the first time,” Tuck injects, grin on his face. 

Danny gives him a tired look— then chuckles and smiles too. 

 

xXx

 

“I’m starving,” Danny realizes as soon as he is downstairs in the cool of the basement (with no stair problems). 

“Well, you  _ did  _ just go crazy with running and stuff more than you ever really have,” Tucker says, tapping away at his once again open game system. 

Danny nods. “But what should I  _ eat?” _ he questions. 

“I’ll get you something from my house,” Tucker says, then makes a face— “I heard Sam was that freaky vegan who changed the menu to that  _ crap.  _ How could anyone live off  _ veggies? _ ” He shudders in emphasis. 

Danny rolls his eyes at his friend’s antics. “Basically  _ only  _ meat isn’t that great, either,” he fires back, ever the neutral party. 

“Good for growing boys and dragons,” Tucker says gruffly, mockingly mimicking a stern father. 

Danny rolls his eyes, prods him with his tail. 

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll get you dinner,” Tucker chuckles, rolling his eyes and climbing upstairs with a wave.

Danny, tucked in a corner on the ground below some comfortable silken blankets, gives a wave back. When Tucker tromps up the stairs, he stretches out on the folded, huge sheets of the rich, enjoying their smoothness. 

Something taps from behind him, light but audible with his bat like ears. 

Nervy, he prepares—  _ something.  _ Thoughtlessly, Danny’s mouth sparks with magic. 

“Boo!” Sam barks from around the study— only to be greeted with a sparking mess of pure electric green touched with shadow resting within Danny’s maw, ready to be shot. 

She jumps back, sensibly— then breathes in amazement, less sensibly. 

“That’s…  _ haunting.”  _ In Sam’s language,  _ beautiful.  _

Danny snaps his jaw shut, swallowing the shot and looking down guiltily. He warbles something— “sorry, sorry, I didn’t mean to do that!”— though it is lost on Sam save for the guilty tone. 

“It’s alright,” she chuffs, as though Danny did not aim a searing, electric weapon at her. “Now,” she says with a gleam in her eyes, “do it again.” 

And so Danny does, drawing out a less concentrated glow from his throat, a new form for his old magic; a new form for his old  _ everything,  _ already something his instincts are sliding into. 

 

He tries not to think about it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All of the measurements (or ratios) are pulled roughly from other animals; wing ratio from terns, most of the rest from wolves. 
> 
> I think this may be closer length to the chapter length from now on, and that there will be something like 21 chapters— at least, as of right now, that’s the plan! 
> 
> I’m really happy this fic has received such positive reception. It makes me just, really happy to see people reading it, recommending it, faving/marking it, commenting on it. So ah, thank you!


	8. crossing the threshold

“Mrs— er, mom,” Sam says into the phone, voice eerily like Danny’s. 

Danny, sprawled next to her in the gothic witch-cave, shudders at both the slip up and the creepiness. “Just say, uh,” he stutters, then lifts his head up and begins to rattle off— “ah, sorry mom, but I think another one of those portal things opened up and well…” he trails, waits for Sam’s few-words-behind echo to reach there, then begins again— “I’m certainly not near home. Thankfully found some old people willing to have me over for a little, but uh, they don’t speak much English,” he pauses again, waiting for Sam to convey his words passably, “and uh, guess that’s it.” 

Maddie, on the other end, is silent for a few minutes after Sam finishes. After a beat, she lets out a deep sigh. “I  _ knew  _ something like this would happen with those portals,” she huffs, teetering on the edge of a rant before pulling herself back with a sugar-sweet tone, “sweetie, it’s alright. Just send me your location and I’ll sort everything out with the teachers.” 

Sam seems wigged out, but manages a grunted “alright,” when Danny shoves her with a paw. 

“Hacking time,” Danny instructs Tucker with a tail poke, and Tucker does. 

And just like that, lie achieved; Danny is in Nowheresville Russia because of a portal, verified by Tucker’s lovely location fiddler. 

“And now, food!” Tucker revels, shoving a greasy paper take-out bag in Danny’s direction. “Nasty Burger was close,” he tacks on. 

The dragon blinks, then warbles hungrily, tongue lashing and throat bobbing as he scrapes the food towards himself. 

His claws scrape away the Nasty Burger’s logo, tearing at paper for a moment, then at tinfoil. When the morsel is released, Danny quickly snarfs the delicious burger down with two quick bites of his enlarged maw. 

Tucker blinks. “Jeez, even  _ I _ eat slower than that.” 

“I think you got some foil,” Sam inputs, clearly a bit disgusted. 

Half of Danny lowers in shame— the other half  _ sniff sniff sniff _ s, and he instinctively cranes his head around for  _ more.  _ He finds his side of fries and tips that down in a gulp, then twists his head towards the next juicy scent, slit pupils dilated. 

Tucker yanks the second burger back, frowning. “Mine,” he says to the dragon. He tips his head— “you can have my fries too, I guess,” he allows. 

In yet another voracious swallow, Tucker’s fries have been tipped back into Danny’s gut. The dragon seems hungry still, licking the remnants of salt from the munched cardboard container, worrying it like a bone. 

Tucker and Sam frowned at the behavior, the two non-friends (though that was slowly changing) meeting eyes in a perturbed look. 

“You really are hungry, huh?” Sam mused slowly. 

Danny didn’t need to, but he still gave a ferocious nod to the positive. 

“Weird,” Tucker grunts, rolling cheap meat on his tongue. 

“I  _ do  _ have a pantry,” Sam reminds in a grouse, voice scraping. 

“But veggies—“ Tucker begins, only to be cut off by a cawing nod from Danny as he charges up the stairs. 

 

xXx

 

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen our pantry look this used,” Sam observes, standing at the doorway and soaking the scene in. 

The small dragon is sheepish and surrounded by poorly torn wrappers of consumed things— mostly nuts, granola bars. Fancy rich people variants of such, but much the same. Danny gives her a smile, sharp teeth tarry from honey of the bars. 

Sam runs a hand down her face. “Not hungry anymore?” 

Danny gives a shake of his head, slides to his feet easily. His tail and claws work in tandem to sweep wrappers into a cleanable pile. 

Tucker, saying nothing but his facial expression betraying shock, angles the trash can so Danny can easily sweep in the debris. 

“Can’t believe you didn’t eat all  _ meat,”  _ he grouses, rather than outright saying  _ I can’t believe you ate that much of ANYTHING.  _

Danny shrugs awkwardly (quadrupedal shoulders not meant for such), looking abashed and equally surprised (though likely more relating to the sheer amount). 

Sam pins Tucker a glare with the meat comment as Danny sidles over. 

Pressing his wing against Sam and Tucker while taking care not to bang the pantry wall and alert her parents, he asks, “why’d I even eat so much, though?” He sounds embarrassed and confused, awkward as always despite possessing the body of a creature known for confidence and grace. 

Sam shrugs. “It’s natural for druids to be hungry after a transformation.” 

“But I didn’t gain any mass,” Danny inputs with a frown. 

Sam just shrugs while Tucker leans down to poke prominent ribs through fur. “You’re a growing boy. You need meat,” he caws, once again imitating a concerned mother. 

Danny rolls his luminous eyes, not knowing Tucker is right on  _ one  _ of those points. 

 

xXx

 

Tucker goes home eventually, not able to swing the  _ at Danny’s  _ excuse considering he’s supposed to be somewhere in Russia, and Danny (with nowhere else to go) is stuck in Sam’s creepy witch-basement. 

Sam, in true teen fashion, has yet to go to bed, and has chosen to remain in the library with a bored Danny sprawled out, eyes roving pages of books he prays to be of use. 

“You know,” she starts conversationally, “I can’t believe you got Tucker to take notes for you. I’ve never seen him take notes.” She pauses, impresses, “ _ ever.”  _

Danny gives a sloppy grin, half cocked point at his face, and drawls, “power of the worried guilt trip. Same reason you took me in.” 

Sam shrugs, suddenly looking flustered. “I dunno,” she murmurs. “Despite being  _ stupid _ —“ Danny gives a gasp— “I at least thought you were, I dunno, kinda cool.” 

Danny blinks. “Cool?” he echoes— and then laughs, a barking sound mixed with warbly wheezing. 

Sam smacks him through their point of contact (her foot,  _ again _ ). “Not like  _ actually _ cool,” she corrects. “Just…” 

“You were just interested in my parents’ stuff,” Danny finishes. 

“No! Er, well, a little,” Sam admits. “But other stuff, too. You’re… different.” 

“Apparently I’ve been cursed this whole time, so—“ 

“Other than that,” she hisses. “Just passionate and stuff,” she finishes awkwardly. “You like space and stuff, but you’re not like… a  _ nerd  _ about it. And your smart, and pretty nice,” Sam admits. “At least I thought so before I met the real annoyance underneath,” she hurriedly defends. 

Danny tips his head. “Is this like, just what you’re like?” he hums. At Sam’s confused noise, he elaborates, “well, I assumed based on what everyone else said and uh, your personality, you were kinda’ a, ah. One letter off from witch,” he titters. “But that prickliness seems to be uh, not… meaningful, I guess? Automatic, or something,” he thrums. 

Sam’s face closes off. “Dunno,” she hisses, defensive and snappish suddenly. 

Danny puts a paw up in mock surrender. “Just saying it’s nice to not  _ just  _ have that,” he hums. Then, eager to get the steaming glare off Sam’s face, he changes topics with all the grace he previously had stumbling down the stairs— “ _ anyways,  _ uh, I guess I better get out of your hair like, pretty soon, huh?”

“Huh?” Sam echoes, fingers tickling a book’s words where her hands rest. 

“Well I gotta go get these stupid wisp things,” Danny explains. 

“If you think I’m going to pass up an opportunity for a  _ magical quest,  _ you are out of your  _ mind,”  _ Sam growls eloquently. 

Danny thinks about fighting her, interjecting a  _ you don’t have to—  _ but it’s clear she’s coming out of interest, whether he like it or not. 

Sam tips her head thoughtfully, adding, “and I bet Tucker wouldn’t be too pleased to hear you were thinking of taking off without him.” She pauses. “I’m gonna guess that’s a  _ no  _ in the BFF’s codebook.” 

“He’d rather stay,” Danny speaks for him. 

“Then I’m sure telling him you said that wouldn’t cause him to blow up,” Sam says smoothly. 

Danny shuffles, but holds his ground. 

“Alright,” she purrs, evil grinning twisting onto her face.

“Anyways,” Danny says, desperate to get away from that point, “I, uh, assume we leave at like, spring break, then?” 

Sam taps her finger against the book’s words. “Then say we all left for a together-trip, or something,” she agrees. 

“And until then…?” Danny trails, head cocked. 

Sam shrugs. “Packing?” she says, but it sounds like a question. 

 

xXx

 

Tucker does indeed explode hearing Danny didn’t think he wanted in on “super magical bro bonding time” (in his exact words). He’d immediately began to help them pack, shoving the old Foley truck with materials while buttering up his parents to the idea of a road trip— Sam did the same, as did Danny through text (“cell signal’s bad in Russia,” he excuses). 

Danny, alas, could not help overly much with anything except for the strength behind shoving junk in the car.

So, because of such, Danny kept up on school… and  _ practiced.  _ He slinked about the forest, testing and practicing abilities— everything but flight,  _ not yet.  _

He created electricity singed trees in the wood, blazed trails with his tail whipping behind him, jumped logs, tracked things with his senses… everything he could to feel familiar in the furry skin. 

And every mealtime after that, Danny was  _ hungry;  _ despite Sam’s idea supporting it would wear off, it remained a constant companion in his belly. It was hard not to snack on pre-packed snacks in the truck. 

Slow yet fast, paradoxical honey, time ticked by, closer to the marked getting-further-away. 

 

xXx

 

Somehow, a week and a half slides by, nothing much else of note occurring— and thus, Danny, Sam, and Tucker stand by a cherry-red truck, bed stuffed to the brim with junk, the latter two teens already having bid goodbye to go to “manners camp” and “tech camp” (their respective lies). The car is nestled in the forest, early morning light spidering towards the trio as though it too is saying farewell to them. 

“Are you… taller…?” Tucker trailed, glancing down at the snout that definitely reached his collarbone while in curved resting position, as opposed to merely resting at his belly. 

Danny sized himself up, craning his neck straight— to reach  _ above  _ Tucker, chin brushing the boy’s beret. He cawed, lower jaw bumping into the equally surprised Tucker, white throat bobbing. 

Sam leaned out the aged red truck, eyeing him. “You’re definitely longer, too,” she observed, sizing up Danny to a memory that was easily half the length of the current beast. 

Danny gave a worried, questioning warble. 

“It’s normal for those with other shapes to have unsustainable shapes,” she explained. At confused looks from both boys, Sam elaborated— “for example, normal person isn’t the same weight as a bear, so normally a druid starts at an equivalent size and rapidly put on weight to grow to the appropriate size. Gaining that much too fast with magic could kill them.” She paused, shrugging and finishing, “after, the mass just stays with that form, so the druid isn’t way fat.” 

Tucker gave a “huh,” while Danny wigged out, cawing and flapping his wings. 

Tucker slapped a hand on the dragon’s shoulder blade nonchalantly, and informed Sam, “he wants to know how much bigger he’s gonna get.” 

Sam shrugged, thinking of the towering figure in the shadows of the magic circle as Danny transformed, looming before destabilizing and collapsing to a more reasonable size. “Dunno.” “He says that’s helpful,” Tucker says plaintively. “Sarcastically,” the boy interjects, perfectly timed with a deadpan look from Danny. Tucker frowns, puts in his own two cents— “it’ll be whatever it’ll be, man.” That said, Tucker doesn’t seem to look to enjoy the thought of a monstrously huge Danny-dragon, either.

“Pretty much,” Sam agrees much more flippantly and tactlessly, then pats the car. “Ready?” 

“Right!” Tucker jumps up, grinning, hopping in the driver’s seat. 

Sam easily slides in the shotgun, smugly and unnecessarily calling out, “shotgun.” 

Danny snaps a playful snarl, awkwardly wedging himself in the back seats, stretching and coiling. His front folds a bit on the bench, wings folded and covering it, and his legs and tail draping down to touch the floor. With the experience born of the week and a half of practice, he flicks his tail in order to thread it through the door’s inner handle, and tugs it shut. 

Tucker gives a clap as though such was a trick, while Danny and Sam simply roll their eyes at him. 

Sam then shuffles around on the front, reaching into her canvas bag to pull out a slightly smaller leather bag,  _ then  _ a small leathery pouch. 

Danny stretches his tail underneath the table between the seats to jab at the teens in order for them to hear his pointless crack— “leatherception.” 

Sam acts as though she hadn’t understood that, shoving the pouch in the pocket in back of her seat, close to Danny’s head. He pokes his nose into the pocket, blinking at the pouch in question. 

“They’re spells for if we need you to be in public or something,” Sam huffs. “Make you look like a dog. But they don’t last long, and they don’t  _ actually, physically  _ work,” Sam says. 

“Useful,” Tucker hums, a reasonable response. 

Danny blinks. In unreasonable response, he asks, “what sorta dog?” 

“Just a generic one?” Sam says, half question, taken aback by the odd response. She gives a half shrug as Tucker shakes his head and revs the car in starting. 

Danny shrugs, chortling. He rests his chin on the heavily tinted window, watching day break. 

Things sober, calm. 

“Bye,” he murmurs, breath warming the window as he curls into himself, feeling for all the world like he won’t be back for a long time. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, your responses are all so positive! Thank you so, so much. Been having a rough time and that really helped me keep writing this :) 
> 
> Anyways, I hope you like this return! I’ve always liked the idea of quests as a road trip bonding time. Yes, I know that means I kinda have 2 DP road trip fics (the other which is kinda on hold oops) but whatever! this one is less road trip focussed at least.


	9. beginning of the trials

It was ten minutes of driving before the entire group had a collective  _ oops,  _ signified by a simultaneous squawk. 

“How the hell are we tracking the wispy things?” Tucker guffaws, slamming the wheel with a hand. 

Danny blinks— then chuffs a laugh at himself for not going over this before, shaking his head. Sam slams her palm against her face as the dragon snakes his lithe tail once again under the table, awkwardly plopping the tip in Tucker’s lap to achieve contact. 

“I can hear them,” he says simply, then assuages less surely, “sorta.” 

“But where are they?” Tucker grits out, glaring at Danny in the mirror. 

Green eyes break Tuck’s gaze, squinting out the window in concentration, Danny half-seeing, half-hearing something beyond human comprehension, a wispy trail. “Er, we’re heading the right direction,” he stumbles, unsure how else to articulate it. He presses a paw to the window in an awkward gesture, a point of  _ that way.  _ “Straight for like… a while… hours?” 

“Ooookay,” Tucker drawls, clearly not convinced. 

They drive. Danny dozes, head curled up against the seat’s leather. 

 

xXx

 

He wakes when the car  _ thuck-thuck-thucks  _ to a stop, chugging with aged effort. 

Danny blinks, raises his head— stares out at the gas station surrounded by thick, thick forest. 

Tucker steps out to gas the car, leaving he and Sam in the truck. 

“Nice nap?” she snarks, sarcastic. “You left me for like, an  _ hour _ to listen to his awful music.” 

“Ah, techno,” Danny thrums, chuckling. 

“Anyways, I figure you should probably give us better directions,” Sam hums, eyeing him. “Your vague  _ that way  _ can only work for so long.” 

“Good point,” Danny sighs. “But— how…?” 

“It seems like the fae-demon-thing probably implanted the directions in your head, so—“ she pauses, draws out the road map book from the clunker truck’s dashboard storage— “just pick a location.” 

“Just…?” Danny trails, confused. 

“Do what feels right,” Sam elaborates unhelpfully, shoving the map towards him. 

Danny squints again, focussing on the memory of the drowning screeching from the dream, and lets his claw guide itself. 

A tearing sound breaks his reverie. Sam stares at the claw jabbed through the paper, and gives a deadpan, “good job.”

“Guess that’s where it is?” Danny says, head tipping in confusion. “That feels  _ way  _ too easy.” 

“Magic,” Sam shrugs. 

Tucker hops back in the car at that point, and Sam shows him the stabbed road map. 

“This is where it is?” Tucker questions. 

“I think,” Danny fidgets. 

“Great,” Tucker drawls, then shifts the truck’s stick to reverse, rolling away…  _ behind  _ the rinky dink gas station. 

“Uh—“ Danny begins a question. 

“Stretch break,” Tucker interrupts, once again hopping out and this time circling the car to open Danny’s door. 

Awkwardly, the dragon removes himself, stretching admittedly cramped wings. 

Then they’re rolling again. 

 

xXx

 

“I have a really bad idea,” Tucker says on hour two as Danny munches on a snack absentmindedly. 

The dragon swallows his chips, removing the bag from his face. “Yeah?” 

“Don’t encourage him,” Sam caws. 

“Flight, right?” Tucker begins, staring out at the middle-of-nowhere. 

“Right,” Danny agrees unsurely. 

“What if we like, made you a kite,” Tucker says, as though that explains something. He continues, rambly— “there’s like, nobody out here, so we could just like, tie you to the truck, and drive.” 

Danny and Sam stare. 

“That might work,” Sam admits at the same time Danny caws, “no way!” 

“You have to learn eventually, dude,” Tucker hums thoughtfully. 

“Do I?” Danny caws back. 

“I mean, you seem like you’d  _ like  _ it,” Tucker amends, thinking of Danny’s obsession with being airborne, floating, with space. 

Danny shuffles. “I mean, yeah,” he admits. “I don’t like it enough to  _ die,  _ though.” 

“Eh. Just follow your instincts,” Sam inputs, extremely uselessly. 

“I  _ guess  _ if I just keep my wings spread…” Danny trails consideringly. He grits his teeth, frowns, and says, “ _ fine _ . I can’t believe I’m agreeing.” 

Sam and Tucker cheer. 

 

xXx

 

The next roadside pullover has the three exiting the car in the dense wood (after carefully checking for others, of course— not that they’d even seen anyone on the back-roads since the gas station). 

“I can’t believe this,” Danny mutters to himself again as Tucker pops the trunk, searching for the set of lengthy paracords amongst the snacks and other supplies. He doesn’t back down, though. His tail flicks in excess energy— nervousness, anticipation. 

Sam locates the cord under the sleeping bags, tugs it out easily, unwinding it from a tight bundle. 

Danny trots over, begrudgingly watching as the duo loop it over the car’s hitch tightly, Tucker using the web to find the best knot… then holding it in nervous offering to Danny. The dragon sighs, but bows his neck so the pair can cinch the string around his neck, around his front legs, tied tight against his chest. Experimentally, he tugs, rope rubbing against his chest scales. 

“Alright,” he breathes, nervous excitement bubbling in his chest, wings fluttering in anticipation. Shakily, he climbs up to the top of the once again sealed truck bed, giving the other two a thumbs up. Sam is grinning wickedly, and Tucker looks at him with the same nervous anticipation reflected. Danny’s wings are practically vibrating with energy, waiting for their use. 

The two human members of the trio clamber back into the truck, sharing a nervous glance as Sam gets in the back to easily keep watch on Danny and listen with the open sliding window, and Tucker crawls in front. 

The car rumbles beneath Danny’s claws, shifts. 

Danny, knowing aerodynamics intimately and having a slight instinctive voice, digs his claws in and waits. The car goes from a crawl to a decent clip, and that’s when he gives a nervous grin and a nod—  _ now or never.  _

His wings billow open, catching the wind. Danny’s claws are still dug into the truck’s cover, but his wings pull desperately for air. For a moment, he considers snapping them closed, denying the yearning that has suddenly made itself known, and clawing the truck bed even further. 

He does not, pulling his claws away. 

Briefly, fear floods through him, feet not touching ground and wings pulling him higher. Then the rope reaches the end of its length, tugging at his chest painfully but reassuringly, and the fear washes away some, leaving adrenaline in its wake. 

Danny screeches in delight at the wind rushing by as he glides, and his sensitive ears catch Sam’s whooping as well.

“Is he alright?” Danny picks up Tucker’s nervy voice from in the car, no doubt surprised by the noise. 

“He’s doing great,” Sam reassures, sounding surprised. 

Danny’s wings continue to billow in the wind, and he stays kiting, staring at the road ahead— and he is  _ content.  _

Until. 

A turn. 

He watches Sam’s face turn to confusion at his suddenly squawky panic as the car begins listing to the side, tipping him off kilter. Danny caws, listing to the other side, pulling away and making the rope tighten  _ painfully,  _ making him gasp— and Sam’s face turns panicked, too.

Careful, he reangles his wings for a proper turn, breathing in and out sharply while pulling himself out of the potential situation that would’ve left the dragon cutting through the air much to quickly. 

Sam calms down— and doesn’t mention it to Tucker after Danny gives her a little thumbs-up gesture from the air. Considering Tucker’s tendency to worry, Danny supports that quietly. 

Another ten minutes (and one more better handled turn later), Sam yells up, “how much longer?” 

Danny gives her a head tip back and forth to indicate a  _ don’t know.  _ Truly, he’s enjoying it too much. 

Staring out at the green forest as he’s tugged along, Danny flutters his wings in trial— playing the role of kite means he doesn’t need to move them much,  _ but…  _ that yearning, that yearning to fly that invaded his past dreams, now invades him once more. 

He starts off small, wings slightly folding to allow a short dip to make the cord go slack, a quick flap to tighten. He wiggles them, drifting to one side or the other in the air. 

Sam gives him another wicked grin, a thumbs up— and Danny gives her a  _ watch this  _ grin right back. 

With his confidence and desire, he steps it up—whole body twisting in tandem with his wings, taking bigger and bigger dips. 

Sam claps him on as his dip-and-up become bigger and faster waves.

Tucker gives a panicked shriek when Danny dips low enough to be seen in the rearview mirror, then snaps back up again. 

“What,” he asks, “was  _ that?” _

“Let him have his fun,” Sam scoffs, watching as Danny does another dive, whole body curving in a wave on the highest curve of the downward slope. 

This time, Danny coasts, level with the car, far behind it, wings almost touching the guard rails, barely above them. This time, Sam does frowned, a touch of worry in her countenance. 

Watching the dragon easily coast doesn’t help, and she admits a tight, “maybe you should be a  _ bit _ careful.” 

Danny barks a laugh at her, green eyes gleaming with joy.  _ No,  _ his expression says—  _ I’ve waited my whole life without knowing I was waiting, but now— _

Daring, the dragon tilts up a little, flaps closer and closer to the truck— flying fully on his own power until he is flapping above the bed, soaring with speed. 

Tucker sees the shape blotting out his mirror, his peripheral—  _ too close,  _ and presses on the gas. Danny once again grind at the challenge, flapping  _ faster, faster.  _

—and  _ nearly smashes into the truck.  _

Thankfully, the dragon squawks, tugging himself above the truck’s roof and then letting himself lag behind it once more, a kite. 

His expression is stunned, only thinking two thoughts—  _ I didn’t know I could go that fast,  _ and  _ that was close.  _

Then:  _ how much faster could I go if I pushed?  _

“And that’s a good flight!” Sam crows, trying and failing not to sound nervous. “Come back in now?” she practically pleads. 

Danny cocks his head, frowns at her. Then sighs, nods. 

Then tips his head. 

Sam voices his thoughts— “ah, how does he  _ land?”  _

Tucker curses from within the car, and Danny winces. 

Tuck slows the car in an attempt to help, and the rope begins to slacken. Danny drifts down, then gives a nod. Slower and lower, Danny lilts his tern-wings to angle for the bed of the truck, slowly descending.

He overshoots and stumbles, but stays clinging on the truck bed of the slow moving vehicle. 

The whole group breathes a sigh of relief. 

“You’re crazy,” Tucker wheezes as he pulls the truck to a stop on the road’s shoulder. 

Sheepish and suddenly stricken by his foolishness now that he was on the ground, Danny shuffles. “Let myself get caught up,” he mumbles apologetically, poking Tucker with his tail through the slid-open window as the dragon collapses in sudden relief. 

“You were good, though!” Sam caws and claps, recovered and once again pleased with the spectacle. “You could probably fly by yourself— see what I said about instincts?” 

Danny levels a flat look at her. 

 

xXx

 

“What do you think the wisps  _ do?”  _ Danny asks after he has awoken from another adrenaline-crash nap. 

“Well, if they’re wisps, they’re just like, pure energy,” Sam hums. 

“Why can’t the thing just get them itself, then?” Tucker cuts in. 

Danny and Sam just shrug. 

“Now we’re back to trusting that thing in the first place was dumb—“ Sam interjects. 

“Hey!” Danny caws. “I know enough magic manners and safety to  _ not  _ reject something like that,” he caws. 

“Then you should know not to accept it outright, either,” Sam counters. 

Danny huffs frustratedly, but says no more to defend himself. 

Silence reigns again. 

 

xXx

 

It’s night. 

“How far?” Tuck yawns, headlights engulfing the street as the car continues to roll.

Sam shrugs sleepily. “Maybe we should turn in for the night.” 

In the back, Danny is more awake than ever, eyes glowing vibrantly. Privately, he wants to get rid of this excess energy flying amongst the stars— so he says  _ yes. _

The cherry vehicle pulls over at the next wooded lot, and Sam and Tucker pull out sleeping bags. Danny tugs the worn, tough blankets they brought for him, nestling in as the two humans fall asleep under the night sky fairly quickly after their nighttime preparations. He keeps one green eye cracked open to watch them, making sure to dim the rest of his glow. 

Even breathing washes over his ears, and Danny slips out of his coils and blanket-nest, padding out. Surprisingly, it is effort to be soundless, balanced— and thinking about stealth, about  _ quiet, nobody see,  _ he finds the same sensation washing over the whites of his wings and chest scales as the  _ off  _ twinge on his glowing parts. 

Danny blinks, turns his gem gaze to find his previously white stomach and membrane washing a deep black, making him a creature of shadows save for the luminous green-blue eyes. He grins a little, laughing in surprise, then slinks into the trees. 

It’s a short walk to the clearing, out of earshot of Sam and Tucker. Danny thinks momentarily about physics, about  _ lift-drag-weight-flight _ … before simply closing his eyes, letting the same adrenaline overtake him from earlier that day, and launching, wings beating the air.

The stars welcome him. 

 

xXx

 

Something shakes Tucker awake, and he mumbles incoherently. 

“Where the hell is Danny?” Sam asks, and that makes him shoot right up, eyeing the abandoned blanket-pile. 

“Bathroom?” the technogeek grumbles, settling back down. 

“That’s what  _ I _ woke up for, did, then waited— and he  _ still  _ hasn’t come back,” Sam grits out. 

Tucker, full worried mode on now, yells an experimental, “Danny?” out into the night. 

In the sky, a shadow shifts, stars blocked by darkness. It descends silently, swooping in lazy circles— and Sam and Tuck are blind to it as its wings swoop out, as the dark form silently alights. 

Until Danny lights himself up, that is, resulting in the other two teens nearly jumping out of their skin. 

“Where’d you come from?” Tucker caws. 

Danny deliberates— then lies, pointing towards the forest. 

“ _ I  _ was over there,” Sam grits out. “I would’ve seen your glowy butt.” 

If Danny could sweat, he would. Slowly, he tipped a claw to the sky— then turned his whole body black in explanation of stealth, becoming a pair of glowing eyes. 

Tucker threw his hands up in the air with an exasperated noise escaping from his mouth at the same time that Sam muses, “huh, I  _ thought  _ you were a nocturnal dragon and the white was weird, but that explains it.” 

Danny turns himself bright again, grinning nervously while trotting over to the fuming Tucker. “I didn’t die,” he offers, pressing his wing against the boy. 

That doesn’t really do much— if anything, it makes Tucker’s fuming  _ worse.  _

 

xXx

 

“Stop!” Danny screeches, and the truck squeals to a stop on the lonesome road. 

After the panic, Tucker once again wheels the thing over to the side, grumbling all the while. 

“It’s here,” Danny says sheepishly, tilting his head about. “Uh— somewhere,” he helpfully elaborates, tilting his head about, staring at the forest— the forest, darker than normal, sensing shivers down his long spine. Danny swears he hears a screech from within its depths. 

The group gets out of the car, Sam swinging her satchel on and Tucker hesitantly edging behind her— even Danny slinks behind her, Sam projecting confidence in the face of the sudden chill that exists. It is an odd image, dragon cowering behind a human teen.

The strange group marches forth, Danny’s spikes lighting the deep forest.

“I don’t like this,” Tucker mumbles. 

“This way,” Danny points with his snout, ears pricking up briefly, then resuming their pinned-back position. 

“Wimps,” Sam scoffs, marching confidently through the brush. 

“I really don’t like this,” Tuck repeats, eyeing the dark-as-night forest despite the fact it was afternoon. 

Danny freezes, ears once again snapping up. He holds. 

“What is it?” Sam questions, turning. 

Danny makes an aggressive shushing noise, ears pivoting rapidly. 

Then he ducks and leaps with a cry barrelling into Tuck and Sam, a feathered mass whizzing by Danny, plummeting into the trees with a deranged  _ shriek.  _

The creature withdraws itself from the shrub and dirt it destroyed, maw opened wide, yellow eyes gleaming. It— looks  _ vaguely _ like an owl. An owl-based  _ abomination _ . 

It stands, raptor-like and _ huge _ , two lengthy bird-like arms decked with twisted claws twitching spasmodically. Its neck is devoid of feathers, looking like plucked gooseflesh stretched uncomfortably, and its wings on its back are strangely shaped; like bat wings covered in feathers, awkwardly bent. On long legs, it takes another charge, opening its beak too wide, splitting its face uncomfortably. The creature’s yellow eyes flash rapidly and repeatedly from circular to slit as it tracks Danny making a desperate leap over it. 

His wings beat once. It snaps at his tail, catching it and digging in before arcing downward, slamming the dragon down. 

Danny scrabbles, dazed, as the creature towers over him, cricking its neck and cackling a screechy wheeze as its beak opens. Its foot is stomped over his tail, zygodactyl feet* clutching it, two claws dug in front and two in back. 

Sam tosses a rock, smashing against brown feathers. It turns on her, screams— giving Danny enough time to snap his wings out while kicking and bucking, freeing himself. The owl-beast lets out a more pained cry at the gashes left by dragon claws in its belly. 

When it charges, Danny caws and leaps at its back, tearing mouthfuls of feathers of its wings off. The left cracks and dislocates under his jaw before the creature flings him off. 

Danny tries to ask, “what is this,” and, “how do I beat it?” while desperately scrambling away from its charges, but to no avail considering the lack of contact that triggered understanding. 

The creature ran, flapping its wings— only to screech after a single flap of attempting to take off, crumbling. 

Danny blinked, then beat his own wings, much to the thing’s angry screeching. It charged and snapped at his tail again, attempting to drag him back down, but a desperate pump and kick to its face made it regret that decision, and its jaw loosened its hold. 

Danny circled in the air, mostly flinging himself from tree to tree to not crash into the thick forest, then divebombing with clumsy claws. He forced the screech owl to go on the defensive, attempting to dodge his unskilled dives— the hard part was to skirt the range of its striking neck and long, swiping arms, as well as pull up before smashing into the tree.

Sam and Tucker mostly stayed out of the way, though they did help with a couple of thrown rocks and sticks.

After a round of this, the owl let out an ear-shattering scream, making Danny’s ears ring and nearly dropping him from the air— disorienting him enough to make him slam into a tree, then desperately scrabble to perch. 

It charged the tree, claws desperately scrabbling up and wings flapping uselessly as he regained his mind— Danny cawed in panic as the creature reached for his tail once more despite the ammunition Sam and Tuck pelted it with. Instinctively, he jerked back, throwing out an electric shot from his mouth and flapping out of the tree backwards. 

Terror overtook him as the ground approached  _ far  _ too fast, and he desperately beat his wings to slow the fall. A  _ crunch  _ sounded— but it was not Danny. The owl beast hit the ground, gurgling, spent. 

Eyes glowing, adrenaline pumping, and instincts thrumming, the dragon stalked over to the thing, placing a claw over its feathered chest as it wheezed, blood dripping. 

“Is it done?” Tucker asked softly, walking up to it. Similarly, Sam approached cautiously. 

Danny didn’t answer— instead, he eyed the thing, opening his jaw, lowering his head. 

 

And crushed its neck. 

 

Behind him, Tucker and Sam made shocked, disgusted sounds. The beast gave wheezing breaths, faint cries with each— but didn’t die. With every death, it began to resemble less of an abomination, and more of a normal owl. 

Sam and Tucker quickly quieted from their retching as Danny shook himself out of that haze and made his own retching at the blood in his mouth, at the thought of the neck  _ crushing.  _

Meanwhile, the now ordinary and healed owl simply stared out and shook itself, then flew away.

Left behind by it, a weak red wisp hovered in the air, pulsing. 

The trio lowered themselves, staring at the thing. Danny’s snout inched closer, breath heavy. With one of the puffs, the thing shuddered— then zoomed away, zipping this way and that. 

The trio stared after it. 

“Huh,” Danny huffed. 

Not much else to say, really. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *owls have a special kind of feet; their 3rd claw can rotate to be forwards or backwards facing. zoology, baby! 
> 
> Somebody likes to fly, eh?   
> This was a LOT longer than intended— oops.
> 
> Future enemies/challenges will likely be more in reference to the show, but I just needed a simple grunt for Danny to beat. Geez, wonder what was wrong with it :)  
> Did you like my action…? It’s kinda my first time writing it. 
> 
> ...I think I might draw some scenes from this, later!


	10. first trial

As the forest loses its dark pallor, questions follow: 

“What was  _ that?”  _ Sam caws. 

“What was with the neck thing?” Tucker yells. 

In continuation of the trend, Danny just screeches  a general, “ _ what?”  _ at everything. 

The forest returns to the ordinary level of living background noise as the trio takes a breath,  _ whumph _ ing to the ground. 

A brief respite. 

“I dunno what the whole neck thing or  _ any  _ thing was,” Danny blows out, gem eyes squinting. 

Sam coasts over him with a louder grumbling— “that wasn’t a normal wisp, that thing was a cursed  _ something,  _ and it escaped.” 

“And there’s more,” Danny inputs helpfully. He pauses, head cocked, as though tuning into a faint noise. “A  _ lot  _ more,” the dragon corrects. 

Sam groans, rubbing her face. “We don’t even know how to  _ collect  _ them,” she hisses. “We just know how to fight back— which, Danny, that was all you were instinctually doing, or whatever.” 

Another breath, Danny refraining from snapping back an, “ _ I almost killed it!”  _

Sam continues, “besides, the  _ neck thing  _ clearly helped,” she pauses, then slowly continues on as though drawing a conclusion, “it was like you knew what you were doing.” 

“How?” Tucker guffaws. 

“Maybe the demon thing put in knowledge on dealing with them,” Sam shrugs. 

Danny shakes his head as though something is screwed inside his skull, grimacing at the possibility of that psychic invasiveness. 

Sam once again ignores him, shrugging and saying, “sure would be nice if he put in some way to catch them.” 

Danny pauses from his aggressive head-shake, squinting hard in concentration, then shaking his head. “I got nothin,” he explains, then pauses— “I think. Don’t really know what to… think… of…?” He tilts his head at the awkward phrasing, unable to put it any better. 

“Fair ‘nough,” Tucker cuts off, staring around at the much-lightened forest. “This place doesn’t give me the creeps anymore, but I don’t want to stick around,” he cut in, roughly inserting that into their conversation. 

“Fair ‘nough,” Danny echoes, trotting away with a flick of his tail. 

“The car is the other way,” Tucker says, slowly. 

“The wisp is the  _ other  _ other way,” Danny deadpans plainly, trotting back to press his tail against Tucker’s leg to achieve communication.  

“You mean it stuck around?” Sam asks, surprised considering its hasty retreat. 

“And there’s  _ more _ ,” Danny confirms, once again tilting his head in that odd fashion. 

“Well,” Sam sighs— “first we should grab some weapons from the car, then… lead on,” Sam insists, dramatically gesturing. 

 

xXx

 

A quick stop back at the car later and all the trio have satchels stuffed with water and weaponry (provided of course by Sam). Danny’s rests awkwardly on his back. 

With that, they trot into the forest, following the wisp’s trail. 

 

xXx

 

“We couldn’t’ve taken the car?” Tuck moans in askance, draping against Danny. 

“Didn’t know how far it was,” Danny sighs, apologetic. 

“I’m  _ tired,”  _ Tucker complains. 

“Just ride him,” Sam smoothly says. 

Danny’s ears pin back as Tucker shoots up with a blush and a harshly exclaimed “what?!” 

“Like a horse,” Sam elaborates, motioning holding reigns with her hands as though that helped. 

“No!” Tucker barks. “That’s  _ weird,”  _ he grouses. 

“Whatever,” Sam shrugs. 

Tucker bristles in the back as Danny re-evaluates the situation. 

“I mean, if you’re tired,” he says in half offering, taking in Tucker’s sweaty appearance and labored breaths. He tilts his furry back to Tucker. 

“No,” Tucker denies on hour one of their fast-clip walk.” 

 

After an hour passes, Tucker groans a panted, “how far,” and Danny offers again, once again tipping down in allowance. 

“Ugh,” Tucker huffs relentingly, draping himself onto the dragon’s back, dramatically laying between the shoulder spikes. “ _ Fine,”  _ he sighs, shifting Danny’s and his own bag to a more comfortable spot, nestled against the dragon’s lower back and kept in place with Tuck’s feet. 

Sam snorts. 

“We couldn’t’ve driven this far anyways,” Danny interjects, tipping his head at the surrounding trees to indicate their thickness and lack of road. 

“Ugh,” Tucker reiterates, stretching against his back. 

 

xXx

 

“You’re sure it’s out in the forest?” Sam trails, looking doubtful. 

Danny gives her an unamused look, nodding. 

“You know,” Sam muses, “there  _ is  _ a faster way of getting there.” She looks deliberately at his wings. 

Danny and Tucker make an affronted noise in unison. “That’s dangerous!” they bark simultaneously. 

“Only if you’re a coward,” Sam smirks. “I’ll go first,” she insists, grin widening further. 

“First?” Danny asks, cocking his head at her. He isn’t touching her, but she can grasp the question. 

“I mean, taking one at a time seems better,” she huffs, at least  _ moderately  _ aware of safety. 

“Mm,” Danny grunts, shuffling foot to foot before trotting up to Sam, pressing his tail against her ankle. “Fine, we can try it,” he says, determination wavering in his voice. “But we need some kinda’ saddle thing.” He half winces at the word saddle. 

Sam stares at the straps on the leather satchels. “Can do.” 

“This is another terrible plan,” Tucker hisses, wriggling off Danny’s back and taking the bags with him. “But I guess I’ll help,” he concedes with a sigh.

Both get to work on their own bags, gutting the necessary parts. Danny is able to make short work of the leather by slashing at it with his claws or puncturing it with his teeth, and soon enough some manner of loop is created of paracord and thick leather. 

Sam examines it, looping one end around a subservient Danny’s neck and securing it to his spikes. All three turn and look, Danny rotating his wings in test. 

“Good enough!” Sam chirps not at all reassuringly, clambering on the dragon’s back. Danny lets out a bark at her eagerness, shifting to allow a more comfortable scramble. 

Sam sits, legs dangling on either side of his neck, tying herself in as Danny plucks the strapless leather satchels up in his claws to carry. Danny’s couldn’t blush, but he would if he was capable— instead, his scaly jaw darkens to a gray. 

Sam feels the dragon tense, and simply pats his swan neck. “It’ll be fine,” she clumsily reassures, obviously more desiring to fly than to comfort Danny over what she wrongly assumes is apprehensiveness. “Now,” she grins, “let’s go.” 

Danny pads his feet in the ground nervously, swinging his head and eyeing her. “If I’m going too fast or something, uh, just—“ 

“Scream,” Sam jokes. “Got it.” 

“Uh, that works,” Danny stammers, gently opening his wings. “Alright, this might be a bumpy uh, takeoff,” he warns, eyeing the trees that force him to go almost directly up. 

Sam nods, leaning down and pressing flush against his neck, twining her hands in thick fur. 

That hypothetical blush decides to escape in his jaw again, flushing it black— there’s no time to comment, though, as with a short hop, he launches at the tree. 

Sam yelps, tightening her hold in earnest as Danny launches himself from tree to tree, only achieving a short flap between each before another is in the way. Though not flying yet, the pair were on an upwards trajectory, at least. 

Just a few more bumps, a few more hops, then a few hard flaps at the open air and—  _ clear.  _ The dragon and the girl let out a heavy exhale of relief as Danny coasts, wings open. 

Sam sits up on his back, fingers still buried in fur, and laughs. She feels the dragon’s chest bounce beneath her in laughter, too. 

“That was amazing!” she whoops, hands turning to full fists. 

Danny’s ears tip back towards her, indicating him listening, and he nods as he gives another pump to his wings. 

Though not the one flying, Sam revels in feeling each flight muscle’s twitch of adjustment, of air flowing against her body as she soars through the air. 

“Going to go faster, now,” Danny warns, and she feels his wings stiffen in preparation for a more intense flight. 

She takes in the acres of deep forest, breathing in deeply before leaning against the dragon’s neck once more. “Go,” she urges.

Danny does. 

 

xXx

 

“That wasn’t so bad,” Sam laughs, shaking from adrenaline as she departs. She pauses, taking in the scenery— a large lake, a good landing spot. “So it’s here?” 

Danny gives a nod, eyeing the lake. 

She nudges him. “Go get Tucker,” Sam urges. 

Danny nods, trots off before taking off over the lake, water rippling. 

 

xXx

 

Tucker’s ride is far less pleasant— he screams the whole way on the ascent, fingers tearing painfully at fur. Above the trees, he does not relax, staying tense against Danny’s shoulder blades and neck throughout. 

“Just enjoy it,” Danny purrs, and Tuck shudders at the movement of ribs beneath his legs. 

“Just focus on flying,” he echoes back, clingy. 

Danny shrugs, doing so. 

 

xXx

 

Before he lands, Danny  _ knows:  _ something is wrong. Sounds of grunting and growling and clanging reaching his ears from the direction of the lake. 

Tucker screeches as the dragon practically pulls into a dive to skim the lake’s surface, heading at breakneck speed towards Sam. 

Sam, who is holding a baseball bat and is surrounded by… fish…? 

Not ordinary fish by any means; their fins are far too winglike, and they stand on four legs out of water. Their gills flap angrily, and their mouths gape showing too many teeth. Like the owl, they’re abominations, and similarly their eyes fluctuate between ordinary fish round and...  _ not _ . 

Tucker continues screaming as Danny draws his full tilt charge closer. The group of three fish turn to look at him just in time to get a swiping mass of dragon flung in their huge faces. Tucker shields himself. 

“Took you long enough,” Sam grits, clanging her bat into a catfish. 

The catfish shakes its stubby head, whiskers shaking and mouth gaping angrily while Tucker yelps, “get me off, get me off!” 

Danny huffs, winging away and gritting to a stop on the rocky beach, slidinghis neck down. Obediently, Tucker scrambles off, barely clearing the dragon before Danny flaps back into the fray, leaving the leather satchels in his talons behind. 

Tucker reaches in and draws out a matching baseball bat as Danny claws at a towering carp creature with impressively large spines. 

“Wisps again?” Sam grunts, slamming the bat into a long, slinking, snakey fish that is clawing around, fins mutated into some semblance of legs. Its mouth gapes silently, pupils slit. 

Danny hisses unintelligibly in answer, scrabbling at the carp’s scales from its back. It bucks, angry, and the catfish leaps up to help. Danny screeches as the thing’s whiskers yank at him, grabbing his fur. He snaps at them before breaking off from the carp, straining against the hold. 

Tuck arrives just in time to take his own bat to the whiskers. The thing screeches, pulls back, allowing Danny to dive at it and finish it off; he rakes at its gills, puffing magic into them. 

The catfish shudders, going from an abomination to a normal fish in a blink. Similar to last time, a wisp extricates itself. 

There is not time to focus on that for the group though, considering the other two enemies. 

The eely fish is lolling around Sam and Tucker who have grouped. It is wary of the baseball bat, clearly having taken one too many a hit; it appears dazed, yet cautious of their swings. 

Danny eyes it, lunges, figuring it will be an easy target— only to get intercepted by the carp, who stomps over the now flopping catfish… and touches the wisp hovering over it. 

Danny blinks as the wisp flickers, and disappears into the carp. There is a lull of silence, and then a  _ crack _ , and the trio can only watch as the carp  _ grows _ and  _ shifts,  _ creaking into a form even more draconic. Its fins become wings along its eely back, long but narrow, useless for flight. Its legs rise, more properly leg-like, and it swings its lengthening neck with gills flapping. As it stomps, it steps on the other fish, and absorbs its wisp as well, multiplying its growth with new speed and size. 

A final crown tops the creature that stretches the size of two trucks: sloppy proto-horns rise from its sloped head, antler like but not quite  _ right.  _ The skin and scales of the creature hang loosely where the things erupt from its skull. 

The creature’s eyes bug as it gapes, huge and snake like, before impossibly slithering  _ upwards,  _ swimming in the air. Its cry is like thunder. 

“Oriental dragon!” Sam caws, diving to avoid its sloping claws as the thing continues to rend and screech, writhing in the air. 

In another language lost to time, the creature screams. Danny understands it. 

“ _ My prison underwater,”  _ it screeches nonsensically, slit eyes gleaming an eerie blue. “ _ Free me,”  _ it insists. 

He hovers in the air, wings beating laboriously against the spray of the kicked up water. “How?” 

“ _ Change back,”  _ one voice caws. Much louder, another cuts off— “ _ kill captor! Steal!”  _

Danny stares, hovering— something else is screeching, and it's not Sam and Tucker. He stares down, down, down, looking at the dark water his wing beats are disturbing. 

“ _ Go down!”  _ the creature encourages, writhing. “ _ Steal the heart!”  _ it emphasizes. 

It’s not all dark, he realizes to the sound of Sam and Tucker’s yelps at him to “do something” and “pay attention” as they scramble away from the beast hovering in clear pain and derision. 

Something glints in the lake. “The heart?” Danny wonders aloud, then stares consideringly at the dizzily spinning creature. “Might as well give it a shot, since _you’re_ no help,” he mutters. 

Danny takes a deep breath, hauling in air, then flaps up once in an arc before pulling his wings in tight. He hits the surface of the water in a clean dive, air bubbling from his nose as he plummets.

As soon as the energy from the dive has worn off, the dragon opens and beats his wings, scooping water, easily propelling himself forward slickly. 

Around him, a multitude of shapes lurk, eyes glittering. Huge things that were once fish. 

For a moment, he brightens his spikes and wings. The beasts turn towards him in pause, and he dims and swims faster. 

After that, they do not pay him any mind, seemingly accepting him as inconsequential, sloughing past him with huge bodies. Danny’s wings swish over a huge sturgeon, and he dives under another carp, wondering  _ how deep the lake goes.  _

Danny keeps diving, lungs not having an issue considering their apparently decent size. The draconic fish continue to give the speeding Danny no thought, meandering about.

The dragon’s wings swirl at the water, tail swooshing, propelling him towards the blue colored light that grows ever stronger. It illuminates more and more fish creatures that are bigger and more draconic the further he goes down. 

Its a gem, nestled in a huge rock that protrudes from the depths. It glitters an enticing turquoise. 

Danny takes it. 

Something in the water shifts, stills.

The rock opens its blue eyes, and the gem glimmers brighter in Danny’s claws, revealing it was tucked amongst snake-like coils that did not belong to a rock at all. 

The lake boils with writhing creatures as Danny recklessly shoots up to the surface, swerving side to side to avoid snapping fish and the huge head of the “rock” that follows him. 

Blue eyes from many fish yet one being trace him as the snake-creature rises, rises. 

Unlike the half-formed oriental dragon above, the one that rises after Danny as he breaks the surface is  _ truly  _ huge, the size of a freight train. More and more of it pours out of the water, dripping wet. It shakes its mane.

The once-carp that writhes at the surface screeches, “ _ free me,”  _ at it in a plea, a demand. Its eyes glimmer a dull grey to blue. The thing swivels its head, and with one look of a blue eye the creature’s mouth snaps shut, its eyes stopping their flickering and glowing fully blue. 

“The captor,” Danny breathes, looking at the swirling creature that has its eyes fixated on the rough gem in his grasp. 

Tucker and Sam don’t have much to say on the matter. They mostly scream foul nonsenicalities, scrambling away from the  _ enormous  _ beast that draws itself from the lake, coils elegantly swirling above and below the depths. The smaller former-carp twirls around its master. 

Elements of it are fish like, fins covering its body, gills adorning its neck, stubby legs, a distinct fish tail— yet it is unmistakably  _ dragon.  _

...And unmistakably controlling everything here. More and more fish beasts writhe out of the water, clawing out of the impossibly deep lake. 

“We can maybe not fight?” Danny tries, rearing to backpedal out of there, wings pumping. He hopes that the creature is intelligent and put-together enough to respond. 

“You stole food giver from us,” the thing says, mouth vibrating, mane shuddering. Danny backpedals to a tree, perches. 

“What?” Danny screeches back from his perch, clawing into a branch. 

“Most know not to drink,” the dragon laments. “No controlling.” 

“Uh,” Danny enunciates primly. 

Another, separate tone voice within the dragon barks, “the  _ owl,”  _ at him. 

“Oh! I’m ah, sorry?” Danny questions. “So let me get this straight, you’re like, controlling everything here?” he clarifies, eyeing the ground of angry fish beasts unsurely. He squints at Sam and Tucker, backs against the trees and bats in hand, and they look back. 

The thing chuffs. “We are.” 

“And uh,  _ who  _ are you?” Danny asks nervously. 

“All fish,” the dragon says. 

“Fish. You’re not a dragon,” Danny clarifies. 

“Are now,” it purrs, coiling in the air demonstratively. “All of us, together,“ it thrums. “Stronger than shiny rock group, but still  _ need  _ it. Give.” 

“Hm,” Danny hums, eyeing the thing in his claws. He readies his wings. “What if I don’t?” 

The dragon stares at him dumbly. “Need. Give,” it repeats. 

“Not all that smart, huh?” Danny observes, launching into the air and opening his mouth to draw in charge. 

The electric shot whizzes by the fish dragon. Considering it doesn’t  _ touch  _ it, the scream the dragon gives is more in offense. 

A return  _ gloosh  _ of pressurized water  _ does  _ touch Danny, almost sending him into the trees; he barely recovers. 

Both dragons draw for another shot, and once again Danny’s misses and the large beast’s does not. 

In the background, Sam and Tuck clang their bats against an advancing fish army— easily defeated singularly, but  _ numerous _ . 

Still, Sam finds time to shout, “you  _ suck,”  _ when Danny misses a  _ third  _ shot. It goes whistling off into the distance, setting a tree on fire as though it was hit by lightning.

This time though, Danny manages to dive below a gush of water fired back, at least. 

Danny frowns, circling and flirting with the idea of scrabbling at the massive head, poking at its eyes. He attempts to get close, pumping his wings— but the creature lunges like a viper, and only Danny’s adrenaline surge and full tilt dive save him from being a mere snack. 

“Give!” the creature roars. 

Danny fires another shot, this time hitting  _ a  _ fish monster… though not  _ the _ fish monster, the shot landing in the mass of writhing fish-beasts that crowd the ground. He blinks for a moment as the electricity arcs on their slimy skin, hitting  _ several _ . 

And then he’s knocked out of the air by another harsh stream of water, coughing and gasping wetly as he’s driven into a tree— but at least he has an  _ idea.  _

Rather than firing an unsuccessful shot  _ again,  _ Danny stores it slowly, letting the green spark in his mouth. The oriental dragon eyes him warily, blue eyes gleaming as it draws up water through the slits on its lower body that are in the lake. 

_ Gloosh.  _ Danny tucks his wings, minimizing damage the water gives, and he releases the shot directly into the water streaming out the dragon’s mouth. 

It screeches an unholy sound, as though thunder rumbled from its mouth; fitting, since Danny’s lightning had certainly reached there. Arcing sparks dance, the creature overloading. 

After it fizzles away, the thing slumps into the water. For good measure, Danny aims at the lake it was slumped in. Like hitting the broad side of the barn; basically impossible  _ not  _ to do. 

Electrocution abound; the huge dragon and all the beasts anywhere in or just  _ near  _ the water all lit up in screeching. Blue eyes faded as Danny fires more and more shots into crowds of fish; with each shot, wisps drained from their bodies, leaving a flopping fish behind. The wisps dart into the stone in his claws. 

Soon, it was a field of flopping fish that Sam and Tucker were doing their best to throw back in the water (at Sam’s insistence; Tuck was content to let the things suffocate considering their past status of attempting murder). 

The large and small oriental dragons were still formed, though. Danny glides down to the lake, unsurely placing himself in the water, an awkward duck, wings draping outwards. 

Using his tail to swim, he drifts over to the smaller dragon that had formed before his eyes earlier, nosing it. 

It blinks rounded, gray eyes open. 

“Uh, you good?” he stammers. 

“Free,” it confirms stupidly. “Back change,” it prompts. 

Danny tilts his head in question. “Back to a fish?”

“Back,” the beast echoes. 

So Danny does, puffing his magic at it, and it shrinks. 

For a moment, he eyes the smoking giant consideringly—  _ wait ‘til it wakes and ask questions, or turn it now?  _

Well, the thing  _ had  _ been pretty stupid, and not exactly friendly. Danny shudders when it moves a little, fins twitching, and decides to not deal with it. 

From it burst an uncountable amount of carp. They eye him in the way that fish do, then swim away. 

Danny looks at the gem in his paw and wonders just what it did to combine them into such a monster when they were just simple fish. 

 

xXx

 

“First wisp?” Sam says in half celebration as they relax on the shore of the now normal lake, the two human teens leaning against an exhausted Danny. 

“Yay?” Tucker huffs.

“At what cost?” Danny caws dramatically, wrinkling his nose— “we all smell like  _ fish.”  _

Experimentally, the other two sniff themselves and him, breathing in— then all three of their faces match, expressions disgusted. 

“Too high,” Tucker bemoans. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Carp are over abundant in this chapter due to their association with oriental/chinese dragons 
> 
> (For reference, as mentioned last chapter, Danny is not overly tall but he is long— somewhere between twice and thrice a human’s height. Still not able to carry a person scientifically, but eh, DRAGONS). 
> 
> I’ve decided I want this fic to be more of my prized baby, so I’m going to go back and edit the stuff out already to be rid of stupid mistakes.   
> On that same note: I’m looking for a beta reader, one that could be reached by discord or skype… asides from that, the only real requirement is that you possess decent grammar skills yourself, I suppose.   
> Benefits are (in no order): possible friendship, me messaging you at 2AM, me screeching ideas at you, possible bonding, getting to see chapters ahead of time, and uh… probably more. Yay.   
> DM/comment please!


	11. retrieval of AN elixir

Danny disgustedly grips several fish in his mouth carefully, plopping them back into the  lake from whence they came with a wince. 

Tucker had recommended they simply leave all the stranded former dragons to flop away as he was half afraid of their previous magic and half afraid of the smell. Sam, all but confirming the rumors of her animal rights activism, has gone ballistic on him— not, of course, that Danny had no heart and wanted the fish to die, but more that it was an extreme and nigh threatening reaction. 

So here the trio were, scooping many fish back the lake so they could live the rest of their fishy, non-draconic lives. 

Danny scooped up more desperately wriggling fish, gills flapping for air, listening to Tucker whine about how disgustingly slimy they were and  _ ew look at their gills ugh it’s coming out  _ and the like. The dragon made a mental note to impress how thankful Tucker should be he was handling the things with his  _ hands  _ as Sam started  cawing , “if the gills are coming out, it’s suffocating, idiot!” 

There was a low thrumming sound that underlined that speech. Danny blinks, flicks an ear, jaw slack in concentration and dropping the last few fish in the water. Low thrumming grew heavier and louder in the background mixed with whirrs and chimes, confusing and most certainly not natural. 

His ears pivot, looking for the strange electrical song, and—  _ there.  _ Sharp eyes catch a glint of a white flash in the center of the lake, a mere crackling wisp. 

“Hey,” Danny said, “what’s that?” 

Ineffective question considering he was not in contact with either of the two humans, but it did its job in getting their attention, making them crane their necks to what the dragon was staring at. 

Through all this, the wisp grew, becoming a small crackling circle of light. Beyond it, something metallic gave a flash. 

“Portal!” Sam caws in warning, making a duck-and-run for the trees.

Tucker and Danny cock their heads at each other, ambling confusedly behind her towards the forest while keeping an eye on the interesting development. 

From it emerged… not a monster, but a white clothed man wearing shades. He almost hung in the air a moment before splashing down into the murky water, where he promptly began spasming. 

Danny lurches forwards, ready to assist the seemingly drowning man— until said man begins cawing, “my suit! My suit! Cleanliness breach! Do you  _ know  _ how hard it is to remove swamp scum from white—“ 

Danny blinks, then huffs with surprised laughter, watching the man flounder as more hands emerge from the door sized portal to yank him back.

Someone cuts in on the other side— “Guys in White, reporting for duty. Port on location. Moving in after cleanliness standards have been achieved.” 

“Considering we ported directly onto a lake,” the one who fell in said lake grouses. 

“Guys in White?” Danny echoes, close enough to tap at Tucker with his tail. 

“A magic agency!” Tucker barked back, awed. 

“Like… government?” Danny clarifies doubtfully, eyeing the portal emitting sounds of cleaning the “breach.” 

On cue, Sam emerges from the woods breathlessly. “A magical containment agency!” she elaborates. When Danny blinks cluelessly, she points to the wisp-stone in her hands that Danny passed off to her and the dragon himself, and states obviously, “the kind that would contain  _ you.”  _

Danny and Tucker scramble to the woods a lot more quickly than before, eagerly following Sam to crouch behind the bushes. 

“What do you think they’re here for?” Danny hums, tipping his ears upwards to try to catch more info on them. 

“They have weird magic sensors,” Tucker explains. “Like satellites.” 

“Probably saw the dragon… thing’s energy,” Sam concludes neatly. “I gotta assume that magic is not normal.” 

Danny nods, abated. “Do you think they’ll find us?” 

Sam shrugs. “We should get away from them  anyway ,” she suggests, scooting further into the wood. 

“I have to take off,” Danny reminds, looking behind himself at the too-dense forest. “ _ And  _ I can only carry one. Unless we want to test more,” he adds. 

Before Sam or Tucker could give wholly opposite answers (one enthusiastic yes and one  vehement no, respectively) there comes a louder humming. 

And from the portal emerges three men on…  _ something.  _ They hover in the air, all metal and weird angles as the agents sit on them. 

Danny squints, cocking his head. When he puts it together, he nearly loses it right then and there.  _ Because they’re riding vacuums.  _

Not nearly as graceful or simplistic as a broom, the vacuums whirr almost angrily, bobbing in the air. The suction disturbs the lake, confuses the fish beneath. 

“Begin scan,” the highest instructs, sitting atop a thicker vacuum than the rest, glowing blue swirling in its chamber. 

“Scanning,” the other  two confirm, flicking a switch to activate a blue light from within the head of the vacuum and leaning forward to command their vehicles onwards, circling the lake in a cacophony of whirring. 

“Are you seeing this?” Danny murmurs, staring with his mouth wide at the odd sight. 

“Ugh,” Sam intones. “Traditional brooms are  _ so  _ much better, modern vacuums are all style and no substance,” she grits, as though that explains anything.

Danny and Tucker can’t decide whether to stare baffled at her or the agents, so they settle on glancing between the two in utter confoundment. 

“Vacuums,” Danny echoes slowly. “ _ Riding  _ vacuums,” he expands. 

“Just shift back to brooms!” Sam continues to rant as though that is the point of  confusion . 

A rather close  _ whirr  _ distracts the trio as the vacuum of one man circles a little close for comfort, saving the group from  another outburst on ridiculousness. 

“We’re leaving!” Danny intones, casting a worried glance at the three before slinking into the forest— and hopefully out of range of the sweep.

“They’re idiots anyways,” Sam assures, nervousness from before gone— though she does give a soft reprimand of, “but just in case.”

Tucker laughs, and Danny joins him, a bit stunned. 

“Hiding from the government,” Tucker glamorizes, nudging Danny while the dragon rolls his eyes. “What a  _ troublemaker,”  _ he intones. 

“Stick it to the man,” Sam encourages. 

Danny just huffs again, shaking his head. He then glances around, looking at the forest. “It’s way too thick for me to fly, I think,” he judges haphazardly. “And it’s a long walk back,” the dragon groans. 

“I’m tired, and I barely even fought,” Tucker adds, prodding at the tuckered out Danny and Sam for emphasis. 

“We can just wait them out, then,” Sam suggests, brushing the poke off. “Sleep,” she recommends, eyeing the weary dragon and considering her own state. 

Danny bobs his head up and down, long neck springing in agreement. 

Tucker eyes the oblivious agents sweeping the lake and examining the many fish outside the water with confused expressions (thankfully throwing them back in, to Sam’s pleasure). 

“Lead the way,” the tech nerd gestures to Sam. “You choose how far and where.” 

Sam eyes the forest contemplatively, then simply points a random and vague direction. 

“Sounds good,” Danny agrees, injecting friendly sarcasm before dragging his tired wings through the thick woods, leaving the lake of former dragons and current vacuums behind. 

 

xXx

 

Thick, peaceful woods do not lend themselves well to staying awake; such a peaceful environment practically demands a doze, and Danny does just that. 

Tuck and Sam coo at the dragon, marvelling at how cute the creature is curled up against a tree. 

“How can he even sleep like that on the ground?” Tucker wonders, giving the leafy forest earth a kick. 

Sam shrugs. “Must be pretty tired,” she muses distractedly while digging about in her satchel. She plucks out the blue stone, then digs more and pulls out a line of wrappings. 

“Bandages?” Tucker asks, appalled. “Overprepared much?” 

Sam snorts. “They’re useful for this, at least,” she injects, wrapping the stone in a roll. 

“And what is  _ that _ useful  _ for?”  _ Tucker queries back. 

“You saw what this did to those fish. Do you  _ really  _ want to be touching this thing?” Sam scoffs, wiggling the wrapped gem in his face and using Tuck’s flinch backwards as emphasis. “That’s what I thought,” she drawls. 

Tucker grumbles an incoherent excuse, glaring a little at the gem, then grunts and moves on to stare at the dragon. “How long should we let him nap?” Tuck hums contemplatively. 

“As long as he wants to, I guess,” Sam shrugs, sounding confused as to why Tucker could be in a rush, tone acting as a question of  _ why wake him so soon?  _

Tucker answers it with an unsure question of his own— “we won’t get caught by them?” he asks, tipping a head in the vague direction of the lake where they left the agens. 

“Nah,” Sam barks. “They’re idiots.”

“And you’d know because…?” Tucker trails, half jokingly. 

Sam waves him off, spouting off a vague, “well you know, magic.” At Tucker’s confused frown, Sam elaborates— “asides from the fact that there’s not been any major magical mishaps that the Guys specialize in a long while, there’s just not much way to really  _ regulate  _ something as wild as magic.” 

“But how do you  _ know?” _ Tuck attempts. 

Sam merely rolls her eyes, sarcastically drawling, “I like weird magic, Tuck. You think I  _ don’t _ hang around places on the internet that would’ve had experience with these guys?” 

Tucker cocks his head thoughtfully, then shrugs in a conceding motion. 

And then— 

A loud whirring. 

“Oh sh—“ Tucker begins. 

It’s cut off by a loud, “wake up!” directed at Danny from Sam. 

Danny does, but it’s not so much a spring to alertness as it is a bleary blink into it. He first sees Sam and Tucker making an attempt at a stealthy sprint towards him from his left, then secondly to his right sees the guy on a high tech, smooth vacuum cleaner, sitting stock still atop the thing in surprise. 

Danny and the agent spend a moment gaping at each other. 

The dragon kickstarts into action when Sam pulls Tucker onto his back, making his spine arch and lungs puff at the shock of them jumping on him. 

The agent opens his mouth, expression morphing into a kind of indignant anger— but Danny is already on the run between the trees. 

“Operative M reporting— escaped U-14-U-T, sector 11-W on location,” the man barks into a radio from behind them; Danny can hear it tipping his ears back. He can also hear the loud thrum of the vacuum as Operative M gives chase and barks more info— “subject with two human teenagers. Bears resemblance to a dragon. On chase, route to my location.” 

“Still incompetent?” Tuck grits, holding on as Danny pounds through the forest too thick to take off. 

“They’re chasing me on vacuum cleaners,” Danny points out in a wheeze beneath him from exertion, huffing from the extra weight and previous exhaustion. 

“They probably could sense the stone,” Sam laments, looking much more stable sitting on Danny’s back in comparison to Tucker’s rocky clinging of the spikes and her. That doesn’t mean they’re not a bit squished on the dragon’s back, though. 

Silence for a moment, Danny’s ribs huffing beneath them. 

He glances back. “Even if we found a clearing, I’m  _ way  _ too tired to carry both of you,” he admits. “And that’s even if I could  _ normally,”  _ he whuffs, then goes into mumbling about  _ lift-drag-weight  _ and wing size under wheezy breaths. 

Vacuums hum threateningly behind, voices of operatives echoes of, “located, Operative on chase.” L, K, O, M, and more gathering; a veritable alphabet chasing him if things continued. 

“You could always leave us,” Tuck suggests, continuing, “we’re not exactly the ones they want,” while tugging at the gem in Sam’s hands in order to give it to Danny. 

Sam snatches it back. “If we do that, we won't reconnect for a long time,” she snaps. “They’ll still want to question us and all that  _ mess,  _ and I certainly don’t want my parents finding out about this stunt.” 

Tucker motions at the vacuums that were not just noise anymore, emerging as angular metallic shapes from the forest. “How else are we getting away from these weirdos?!” he barks. 

Sam grins as though she was waiting for someone to ask that, rummaging about in her bag that’s sandwiched behind her, between her and Tuck. She pulls out a glimmering vial, blue liquid almost shimmering like flames dance within it. 

“That looks…” Tucker trails, squinting over her shoulder, and settles on, “dangerous.” 

“Boost potion,” she explains to both him and Danny. She unscrews the cap, eyeing the agents that have gained on them enough to be ten feet away. 

Behind them, the operatives bark, “we are of no threat! Stop immediately and dismount the creature, and we shall begin the capture and questioning process.” Their steeds move into a flanking position, though they remain cautious of the apparently unknown beast. 

“Open your mouth,” Sam says, ignoring them. 

Obliging, Danny does. The girl just tosses the whole vial in between his sharp teeth, glass and all. 

Danny gives a wet  _ glurk  _ noise as he chokes, coughing. The dragon grinds to a stop, vacuums pitching forward at the unexpected and violent halt. 

“Why’d you do that?” Tucker pitches, thumping the dragon’s back. 

“Looked cool,” Sam defends, though she sounds a  _ little  _ apologetic as she smacks at the dragon’s writhing, long neck in an attempt to dislodge the vial. 

With a violent hack, the vial comes out. 

Danny realigns himself, prepares to charge away while saying something sassy and barbed on how  _ stupid  _ that was to do without warning. 

Instead, he can only stare at the vacuums as they complete their U-turn, completely tense. 

“Hey,” Tucker prods at his back, voice pitched with fear, “uh,” he vocalizes eloquently. 

An electric shudder races down the alert dragon’s spine, and his entire body coils as the potion races through his veins. Claws dig into the ground and wings flare. Sam and Tucker both grip onto the spikes to keep balance on the suddenly arched back. 

“Hey,” Tucker says again, even more pitchy and nervous. 

Danny does not respond save for labored breaths, each one drawing out a gurgled snarl from his chest. 

The operatives slow, circling the beast cautiously. They watch as its eyes dissolve entirely electric green, needle teeth and claws impossibly sharpening, spikes cracking out wickedly, wings stretching and body lengthening. Everything he was but  _ more.  _

“Whoa,” Tucker marvels, sitting on the dragon that’s three times the size of what he was, all long limbs, curving length, and sharp edges. 

And Danny… Danny  _ screeches,  _ coiling defensively before flaring his wings out. 

The operatives yelp, high pitched noise  _ painful,  _ and thus the dragon wing beats away with a newfound speed. 

Tucker is screaming now, not the same beastial screech but rather a very fearful one, clutching at the larger and intensely glowing spikes that adorn Danny’s shoulders and attempting to not look down at the earth below. Even Sam clutches at his back, knuckles white. 

“Impressive,” she says peakily. “You can slow down now,” she informs over Tucker’s yells. 

The dragon eyes her with overwhelmingly bright green eyes centered with blue pupils. They show no recognition as it flies almost manically onwards, wings beating and body ribonning to achieve an electric speed. 

Sam prods his back, a little desperate. “Hey, Danny,” she tries. 

“Danny!” Tucker barks, first coherent word— though  _ coherent  _ is a little generous considering the teariness of his voice. 

The beast blinks, shakes his head. “Ungh,” Danny articulates. 

“Danny, Danny,” Sam and Tucker both try again, needling his ribs with their fingers. 

“That… that was…” he hums, tone distant and wowed. His flight evens out, a little less energetic. “Wow,” he finishes, blinking those creepy eyes. 

“Right,” Sam agrees unsurely, “now, mind setting us down?” 

“Oh,” Danny acknowledges, wings beating steadily. 

“Yeah,  _ oh _ ,” Tuck wheezes. 

“Are they still chasing us?” he asks, gliding for a moment before adding a few wing beats. 

“Considering the way you rocketed out of there,  _ no,”  _ Tucker says firmly, glancing back at the distant take off point. 

“But they will,” Sam says. 

“Reassuring,” Danny drawls, eyeing the distance and imagining swarms of vacuum cleaners. He can’t bring himself to genuinely worry about _ such powerless creatures when he is—  _ he blinks, shakes his head, and the thought is shaken away. “Shouldn’t we keep flying, then?” 

“Danny, the first thing to do would he to make ourselves  _ not  _ obvious,” Sam instructs. 

“And that means not being a giant dragon in the middle of the sky. Got it,” he concludes. 

“So just blaze your way back to the car, and we can figure out the rest,” she finishes. 

“Maybe less blazing, actually,” Tucker requests to no avail as the dragon gives his wings a hard flap, singing with magic.

 

xXx

 

The trio makes it back to the car in no time, though Tucker protests such in the form of a stomach heave. Nothing comes up, but Danny circles his queasy friend guiltily. 

“We need to buy seasickness stuff if we do that again,” Sam muses while placing her satchel in the car. 

“Not doing that again,” Tucker asserts, weak voice firm in resolve. 

Sam gives an obliging yet sarcastic shrug, face painted with amusement and doubt. “ _ I’m  _ totally doing it again,” she barks. 

Danny shakes his head at her, moving from circling Tucker to pacing in the woods, a little concealed. 

“Dude, you good?” Tuck questions, recovered from his bout of nausea. 

“Better than good,” Danny assures quickly, body alight with excess magic from the potion. 

“Maybe you need to relax a bit,” Sam recommends. “We  _ do  _ kind of need to leave.” 

Danny eyes the truck that’s too small for his current length, considering he’s longer than it. “This’ll wear off, right? And uh,  _ when?”  _

Sam shrugs. “It was kind of made for  _ people.”  _

“Shouldn’t it have had  _ less  _ of an effect, then?” Danny shoots back. 

Sam waves a hand, giving a short explanation of, “dragons have a lot more power to be tripled by the potion.” 

“You couldn’t have only given me a  _ little?”  _ Danny caws, screech touchin at an unhearable register. “You had to give me the whole vial,  _ vial included?”  _

“I didn’t think about all that in the moment!” Sam defends. 

“The vial included part was definitely a bit much,” Tucker joins easily, though he surrenders at Sam’s fierce glower. 

“Well, we gotta work with it now,” Sam grumbles. 

“I’m definitely not fitting in the back seats,” Danny huffs, peering through the window and feeling suddenly aware of  _ just  _ how big he is and feeling…  _ weird.  _

Sam claps. “The trunk!” 

“We hafta’ move all the stuff out,” Danny says, wrinkling his nose at the thought of the uncomfortable metal truck bed but knowing that was his only option of travel and concealment. 

“Easy,” Sam chirps, popping the back and grabbing a cooler. “You two, over here,” she orders. “Move fast. We don’t know how broad the Guys range is.”

Danny slinks over, and Sam plops their sleeping bags on his back to walk over to Tucker, who shoves them in the back seats. Their supply train works easily, and soon enough the back seats are  _ crammed  _ with junk and the truck bed is empty. 

Sam frowns at the state of the stuffed car. “We really need one of those infini-bags,” she sighs. 

Danny whuffs, thinking about the  _ cost  _ of such items, and settles down in the back, grimacing at the metal and the space. Sam closes the tailgate with a bang, enclosing the coiled-tight dragon. 

Unfortunately, despite his best efforts to channel a tightly coiled snake, Danny does not quite fit when the truck’s bed cover is involved; his giant spikes scrape and poke at the top, making it impossible to close. 

Sam frowns in consideration while Danny tips his ears to the sky in the direction of the forest— a faint whirring penetrates the background noise.

“Vacuums!” he barks. Though not touching anyone, his panic is understood in the way his attention is drawn to the sky and his ears are erect. 

“Just, uh,” Tucker stammers in panic, shouting, “blanket!” 

The pair crams as many blankets as they can in their arms, tossing them over their packed in friend. As best as he can, Danny wiggles to spread them over his body and hold them in place between his coils. 

Quickly, to avoid recognition, Sam and Tucker bolt to the front and start up the car. 

Thankfully, the operatives seem dedicated to remaining secret; Danny hears the whirring stop at the edge of the forest, agents hovering and watching the truck slip away. 

As best as he can within his hot, heavy blanketed confines, Danny tips his ears forward and shuffles his head to the front to hear Sam and Tucker. 

“How do we hide this thing?” Tucker groans, shaking the satchel with the blue stone in it to make his point. “As long as we have it, it’s gonna tell ‘em where we are.” 

“Maybe,” Sam says, “but maybe not.” 

“They tracked us down pretty fast for a  _ maybe not,“  _ Tucker exclaims. 

“That was when it and all those dragons were  _ way _ active _ ,”  _ Sam corrects. “Now it’s back to doing nothing, and they didn’t find it before us, right?” 

“I guess,” Tucker grouses, peering into the bag disdainfully. “It  _ has  _ stopped glowing so much,” he allows. 

“See?” Sam exclaims. “We’re fine.” 

“How many of these things are there, anyways?” Tucker grits, setting the satchel in the precariously stuffed back. 

Sam shrugs. “Nobody seems to know about ‘em, so I guess we can’t say. I don’t think Danny knows for sure, either.” 

Danny caws a loud confirmation of, “sure don’t!” before remembering about the language barrier. 

“Uh, right,” Tucker says in an attempt at response, eyeing the lump of blankets. “He’ll shrink back, right?” he murmurs. 

“That’s how it’s supposed to work,” Sam says flippantly. 

“That’s not reassuring,” Danny injects from the back, worry understood only by himself. 

“You’re not  _ sure?”  _ Tucker caws. 

“It  _ was  _ made for  _ humans,”  _ Sam clarifies again. “It’s fine if he stays like that, right?” 

“No!” Danny and Tuck squawk simultaneously. 

“He’s way too big! We can’t just keep him cramped in the truck bed,” Tucker explains. 

“I also don’t want to be this big—“ Danny interjects uselessly. 

“We’ll get a bigger truck, then,” Sam grunts over him. “Maybe an RV,” she considers. 

Tucker gapes at her. “Those are  _ expensive.”  _

“And I’m rich,” she snipes. 

“Do you want your parents who think you’re… wherever they think you are to know you bought and RV?” Tucker barks indignantly, thumping the wheel of the car. 

Sam pauses, considering. “Hadn’t thought of that,” she ruminates. “Eh, we’ll figure something out if he doesn’t get all scrawny again, but he probably will at least  _ eventually _ .” 

Tucker throws a hand in the air at her flippancy at the same time Danny barks an offended, “scrawny?!”

Of course, he much prefers his previous size despite the insult— even though this size allows him to carry his friends like nothing, it makes him feel unwieldy, huge, beastial.

Even though the rational part agrees with Sam in that  _ yes, I’ll probably lose the potion’s boost eventually,  _ the more frantic part just worries over being stuck as a more wicked dragon than before, long and scary and all the more like a true drake. And with the electric energy racing through his body, Danny has nothing to do but sit in the back, uncomfortable and fretful. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shameless self plug— going to be busy with inktober on my tumblr hummingbird-scratch and my dA sylph-feather~


	12. foils

Tucked away at a gas station, Sam and Tucker stare at their sleeping, blanket-covered friend and  _ genuinely  _ consider renting a U-haul or an RV. 

“It should’ve worn off by now,” Sam says worriedly. “It’s only supposed to last an hour, tops.” 

Tucker inspects the coiled dragon in the back, truck bed facing the forest. “Maybe you shouldn’t have fed it  _ all  _ to him,” he snarks sharply, trace of a joke entrenched in genuine bitterness. 

Sam snaps at that— “I didn’t see  _ you  _ offering up any good ways out of there!” 

“Still!” Tucker grits in protest, motioning demonstratively and desperately at Danny.

On cue, the dragon sleepily blinks into awareness in his uncomfortable pile of blankets as he lays atop the metal bed, lithe form uncomfortably coiled. 

He stares down at his cramped body, looped in an uncomfortable knot. “I thought it should’ve worn off by now,” he unknowingly echoes. As soon as Sam and Tucker place hands on his fur, leaning over the truck’s edge to do so, he peakily asks, “why hasn’t it worn off?” 

“Sam fed you too much,” Tucker deadpans, shooting the gothic witch a glare. 

“It was  _ not  _ too much!” Sam exclaims back, gritting her teeth, unwilling to admit she was wrong. 

“It sure was if he’s still like this,” Tucker barks. 

Sam’s response of a guttural growl is interrupted by Danny’s wheezy, “am I stuck like this?” 

Sam gives him a brusque pat. “It’ll be fine,” she assures awkwardly, gruff. “Nothing is wrong,” she continues.

Tucker gives a scoff at Sam’s statement, resulting in another glare from her as Danny stares down at his large form in apprehension. 

“What do we do until then?” he questions, losing some of the stricken expression at the feeble reassurances. He tips his head at the two humans in sync with the question. 

“Uh, lay low?” Tuck asks unsurely, pushing aside bitterness in lieu of bigger problems. “If it will wear off,” he tacks on, equally as tenuous as the previous statement. 

Sam huffs a little in a  _ duh  _ kind of fashion, rolling her eyes. “Find a place to camp and wait ‘til it wears off,” she grits surely (more sure than she feels). She turns to Tucker, instructing, “find the closest one, I’ll throw stuff over Danny again.” 

“Wait, wait, I wanna stretch,” he protests, uncoiling his stiff, lanky muscles and oozing out behind the truck. He looks like a freshly woken cat, wings fanning stiffly and tail curling. 

After that illustrious stretch, Danny gives a chirpy, “ready,” as he climbs back into the truck’s bed. 

Sam cloaks him in blankets once again, and the other members of the trio hop into the car crammed with their travelling materials to go wait it out in the woods. 

 

xXx

 

A short drive later, the human duo attempts to pry their sleeping bags out of the quickly stuffed back. 

Sam’s pops out from underneath snack foods and food items. She then watches with snorting amusement as Tuck struggles weakly with his.

Already irate, Tucker grits his teeth and rolls his eyes at the mockery. 

Danny looks up from dragging away a log in his mouth, spitting out bits of bark disgustedly and running his forked tongue through needle teeth. He trots to Tucker, frowning at Sam plaintively before balancing hugely on two legs, propping his front leg on the top of the car to stay balanced despite his lengthy form. Easily, he gropes and grasps at the sleeping bag to wench it forwards and out. 

“You’re tall,” Sam comments, kicking off from where she was casually leaned against the truck. 

Danny looks down from his position, cocking a head in surprise at the perspective. He  _ wumphs _ down unsteadily, pushing away from the truck with a sour expression on his face. 

“Rather not be,” Danny humphs, tapping his wing against Sam. 

She rolls her eyes. “It’s temporary,” she insists again. “Enjoy it while you can,” the witch suggests. 

“Enjoy it?” Danny and Tuck grind out at the same time.

Sam rolls her eyes once more, chortling, “I mean, you clearly like your dragon form,” she explains. “Now you’re even  _ more _ awesome.” 

Danny cocks his head. “I  _ do  _ like flying,” he concedes, thinking of how  _ right  _ it felt, “but I haven’t exactly  _ enjoyed  _ being like this,” he corrects. “It  _ isn’t  _ really awesome,” Danny concludes, aching with the displacement of his life. 

“I mean, you’ve spent the last few days crammed in the back of the truck,” Tucker adds in support of the not-great aspects, leaning against the dragon and laughing a bit. 

Sam blinks owlishly. “But you’re so…” she trails, thoughtfully reiterating, “much  _ more  _ than you were.” 

“It isn’t awesome,” Danny repeats, more of a barkish snap this time around. “I don’t want to be stuck so huge I can’t even fit in a car, let alone be stuck like a dragon at  _ all  _ in the first place,” he hisses, voice edging on hysteria. “I just want things to go back to normal.” 

“Normal,” Sam grits, rolling her eyes. “And cool off about the potion,” she instructs insensitively, “it should wear off in a while.” 

At this point, Tucker snaps— “you said it should’ve worn off two hours ago, and there’s been no change!” He pauses, glaring, before delivering a final blow. “If he gets stuck like this, it’ll be  _ your  _ fault for throwing the _ whole vial  _ into his mouth without thinking!” 

Sam grunts. “Maybe a change for the bigger will be better, anyways. Make you stronger and cooler,” she brushes off, nudging Danny. 

The dragon recoils from the friendly touch. “ _ Should’ve  _ worn off  _ hours ago?”  _ he screeches in response to Tuck. “I don’t want to be— this is—“ his breaths turn wheezy, his form shaking as he curls in. 

“It’s not like you’re  _ that  _ different from how you were,” Sam insists insensitively. 

Tucker shoots her another glare, mouthing the words “ _ not better _ ” before stooping down to comfort Danny with an awkward hug around the long neck. Even he seems confused on exactly why Danny is  _ so  _ upset, but says less than Sam and offers more help than the girl who left the discussion to go clear more rocks from their sleeping bag areas. 

Tucker runs a hand down the soft swan-neck until he meets spikes. “Just go to sleep,” he recommends. “It’ll be better when you wake up.”  _ Hopefully.  _

He sounds more sure than he is, enough to convince Danny; anxious but drained, the dragon pries out and arranges stray blankets from the back to curl up in a fuzzy nest. 

 

xXx

 

Sam and Tucker argue further while the tired dragon sleeps; argue over blame, over sensitivity, over solutions. A rift forms as Danny dreams— and oh, does he dream. 

In the dream he at first hears the yelling of his closest friend and the gothic witch, but it fades in time, replaced by his house. 

_ Home,  _ he relishes, not realizing how homesick his departure had left him. He takes a step forward, his parents at the door. Reaches a hand out. 

He stares. His hand twists, nails growing, hair on his arm darkening. From the door, his parent’s expressions go from welcomingly warm to horrified as they draw their weapons. 

“Wait,” Danny tries to say, but it comes out as a snarly, unintelligible mess. “It’s me,” he pleads anyways in a whine, falling to the ground, completely draconic— yet it does not stop; as he curls up frightfully, his form painfully tears bigger, sharper. 

The dream house windows reflect twisted needle teeth set in a long face with demon-eyes as the hunters close in on the beast. 

Danny screeches an ugly cry awake, startling upwards.

In front of him, Sam and Tucker are collapsed, hands knit painfully around their ears. 

Danny trills an apology, scraping claws on the blanket nest that has been twisted in the throes of the nightmare. 

“You alright?” Tucker asks, inching closer until he’s close enough to hover, fearful of the sharpness about him from his form and the defensive nature of a creature in a night terror. 

Danny snakes his tail around the pile to Tuck. “Of course,” he grinds out forcefully. Worry bleeds into his voice as he eyes Tucker’s flightiness and considers the way he woke up to the two humans in pain— “I didn’t hurt you, did I?” 

“He didn’t hurt us,  _ right Sam?”  _ Tucker affirms, ending in that voice that says “ _ you better give the right answer or else—“  _

“Well, that scream was  _ loud,”  _ Sam begins. Tucker whips his head around, glaring and opening his mouth to protest. “Lemme finish,” she snaps, then does so: “—it didn’t hurt me, no.” 

Danny sighs, tautness washing away to leave exhaustion as he looks over himself. “Still big,” he observes in a tired deadpan. 

Though not touching the dragon, between Danny’s ears-down look of desperation and Tucker’s pointed glare, Sam can decipher the message decently enough. “Maybe it won’t wear off,” she admits. She returns to her earlier point, hedging, “maybe it’s not so bad. Like I said—“ 

Tucker cuts her off with a frustrated, incoherent groan. “ _ Not so bad?”  _ he repeats. “He’s obviously all stressed by it—“

Danny gives a half offended chirrup. 

“Sorry dude, but it’s  _ true,”  _ Tucker sighs. “You’re all worked up and  _ you,”  _ he whirls on Sam, “are not  _ helping.”  _

“Well what do you want me to do?” she barks. 

“ _ Not  _ be so…” Tucker trails and motions his hands in confusing silence, settling on, “ _ rude.  _ Just, I don’t know, come up with a way to fix it or something,” he says lamely. “And don’t feed him dumb magic stuff without thinking or knowing about all this,” he adds, glaring at her haughtily. 

Sam glares right back, uncaring of de-escalation  as always. She does not exactly protest the poorly laid out demands, instead saying, “magic’s not  _ dumb. _ Look at what it did to Danny, he’s so much—“

Tucker cuts her off with a groan as the trio cycle back again. 

“Clearly there’s a fundamental difference in our views,” Sam says primly. 

“Big words for you being dumb,” Tucker says childishly, patting Danny. 

Sam ignores him. “He’s bigger and more powerful, which is probably a good thing—“

“In  _ your  _ opinion,” Tuck cuts in. 

“He’s better at fighting and—“

“Easier to be tracked,” Tucker interrupts, finishing, “and clearly unhappy with it.” 

“And annoyed with people talking like I’m not there,” Danny interjects, clawing at his head while prodding Sam with his tail to loop her in to the conversation. “If there’s no cure,  _ fine,”  _ he hisses, sparking green magic steaming from his mouth, “then we have to figure out how to deal.” He pauses. “And maybe be  _ less stupid  _ with magic in the future,” the dragon finishes, giving Sam a haughtily dissaproving look. 

The goth snorts, ever prickly. “I got us out of there,” she says smoothly. 

Danny and Tucker glare for a moment at the witch before the dragon breaks his steely gaze. His dark slit eyes find Tucker, back to their normal black pupil set on green iris in a sea of blue, and Danny shakes his head in a message of  _ let go _ . 

Tucker sighs, but stops glaring. “Guess we’ll need to  _ deal,”  _ he echoes. “How do we do that…?” he huffs. 

Danny groans, flopping down at Tuck’s feet dramatically. “First we need to find a way to get around without size being a problem,” he says, holding one claw up for _first._ He lifts a second one up, saying, “and we need to find something that’s _not_ obvious in terms of money if we don’t want parents finding out,” he holds a third claw up as he takes a breathing pause, finishing, “ _and_ we need to make sure I won’t be _seen_ but also not look like human traffickers.” 

“I didn’t think about the last one,” Tuck admits, considering a large van with tinted windows. He frowns, then— “and I’d guess we want something you’d be alright in,” he adds. “Truck beds or moving vans aren’t exactly comfortable.” 

Danny groans, dissolving the three held claws as he digs his paw into the ground. “Where’re we gonna find something like _ that?”  _

“I don’t know,” Tucker admits— any sort of vehicle would be too expensive, any sort of cargo transport would be an uncomfortable steel box. 

“Maybe we can just do nothing,” Sam says from her relaxed position atop the truck’s front. Before Tucker could even begin to glare, she explained, “well, that is, you could just fly behind. Maybe carry us.” 

“Just fly,” Danny repeats in a deadpan voice— then blinks. “I mean,  _ maybe?”  _ he reevaluates. 

“What about the  _ stuff?”  _ Tuck barks, motioning to the truck full of junk. 

Sam rolls her eyes, gives a shrug. “We could take turns driving— one in the air to talk to you, one on the ground.”

“Turns?” Tuck questions. 

“It’s cold up there— if it was only  _ one,  _ we’d be there a long time,” Sam defends. 

“And what about being  _ seen?”  _ Danny injects with an eye roll. 

“We travel under cover of night,” Sam motions dramatically. 

Danny tips his head. “This  _ could  _ work,” he says in a huff. “I  _ guess  _ we could try it.” 

Tucker, on the other hand, resorts to groaning and shuffling. “I don’t  _ wanna  _ fly,” he states with a nervous gulp. Danny tips his head concernedly, considering his friend’s fear of heights, but before he can say anything Tucker gives a final groan of  _ “fine.  _ We have no other options, really. Can’t explain buying or renting an RV, can’t cram Danny in the back of the truck without kinking him like a broken slinky—“ 

Danny chortles at that, and Sam just rolls her eyes at Tuck’s grumbling. 

“You should probably wear your good coat you packed,” Danny inputs tentatively, glancing towards Sam then up at the sky. “It’ll probably be pretty windy, like you said,” he trails thoughtfully. 

Tuck sighs in defeat and begins stacking up things as Sam begins to fiddle with her phone. “We should probably call our parents again, too,” she suggests, “give them an update.” 

Danny perks up for a moment— “take that potion and tell mine I’m doing fine at… uh… where did we say I was again?”

Tucker frowns, tipping his head. “Russia, I think. They’ve been very…” he trails. 

“Quiet,” Sam finishes. “Why aren’t they after you by now?” 

Danny tips his head and gives a shrug. “I’m not really sure. I mean, it’s been like a week. Things should’ve stabilized and snapped me back by now, and they haven’t even  _ called.”  _

“Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth, I guess,” Sam shrugs, cool in the face of Danny’s half confused disappointment (half of him wanting to indeed overlook the luck and the other half a little offended at being forgotten). She types in the number, gulping a vial of voice changer from her bag, and presses  _ call.  _

Danny’s ears twitch. A ringtone emerges from the woods.  _ A familiar ringtone.  _

A voice: “Jack! The dragon could’ve heard us! Turn your phone off—!” 

“But it could be—“ Danny catches his father’s voice before his ears slam down against his head and he gives a bark. 

“We need to leave,  _ now,”  _ he says. 

Tucker moves towards the car, but Danny shakes his head. “We’ll just fly,” he says sharply. 

“But the stuff—“ Tucker points out. 

Danny’s ears flick back, tracking his parents’ progress, and he cuts off with a snarled, “ _ now _ .” 

Unhesitating, Sam vaults on his back. Tucker lags with an insistent, “why?” and a grumbly, “I thought we were away from those government guys.” 

Danny gives an upset bark, jerking his head to the sky wordlessly while shoving closer to Tucker. A clear message of  _ let’s go!  _

Tucker clambers on as Danny swivels his ears to his back, listening to the insistences of “I heard it!” 

Danny breaks from the trees desperately, with screaming friends in tow just in time to avoid a harpoon singing with magic.

Tucker yelps as it embeds itself in bark below Danny’s tail, the dragon’s wings pumping in violent curves that rock his passengers. Stray leaves and branches wack at the group, clawing as though they are trying to restrain them as the trio plunges skywards, diving into the blue as though it were an ocean. The sharks of blue and orange snap at their back, though; Danny’s parents hurl everything they have at him, his father aiming a bolted bow and his mother fire magic.

“He’s taken humans, Jack!” his mother calls. “Be careful with your aim!” 

“Explains why they’re not shooting more,” Danny wheezes with exertion, half in shock. 

“How are they  _ here?!”  _ Tuck exclaims in pure shock between screams of the stomach dropping rush of bumpy flight. 

Danny barely whizzes around another projectile that burns into the tree he claws the top of as a bounce board as Sam explains in Danny’s voice from the potion, “they must’ve tracked the surge, too.” Unlike Tuck, she is grinning, full of crazed adrenaline.

Already the projectiles are less steady, shot from further and further away, the drake and passengers being a shadow flitting to the sky in opposition to their opposing closeness. 

And chased by a few stray fire balls and arrows into the oblivion, the dragon sails away. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a bit repetitive, sorry, I was getting back in the swing after a crazy October!

**Author's Note:**

> catch me on my art tumblr @sylph-feather, and my writing one @sylph-feather-quill


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